Kill Our Way To Heaven
by Bad Dancer
Summary: It was one deal. One deal gone wrong and Alex Moreno was on the Devil of Hell's Kitchen's radar. Now stuck as Daredevil's semi-unwilling informant, Alex was sinking deeper into a world she never wanted to be a part of in the first place. Matt Murdock/OC
1. The Drop

The city stank of hot garbage and weed. Traces of iron and sweat snuck their way in, too. It bled together, mixing and staining the air. The whole thing left a fairly distinct impression on anyone unfortunate enough to walk through the steam that rose from the concrete. The scent of Hell's Kitchen sunk it's way into every wall, every slab of concrete, every surface it could touch. It was inescapable, and Alex couldn't help but sneer at the dark city around her for daring to sink its scent into her.

Alex's old boots slapped against the concrete as she made her way towards the drop off point. The fluorescent street lights danced in front of her as her only source of light, the shop lights having been shut off at least an hour ago. She shrugged her backpack up more snugly against her shoulders as she rubbed at her nose, trying to brush away the offending scent. Her dark hair stuck to her sweaty forehead, feeling the sweat stick her back to her old hoodie she had to keep on to hide her face. The whole thing was all too familiar. Still, she felt her hand sink into her pocket and curl around the pepper spray she had tucked away whenever she went out on jobs. On the upside, it was the last one of the night, and the smallest.

Turning a corner, Alex made her way into the alleyway she'd told Tommy to meet her in. Of course, he was already there. The gangly man leaned against the brick wall, fingers twitching in anticipation. She could practically smell him a block away, with his rotten teeth and clear lack of access to running water, the stench he gave off practically made Alex tear up. Still, she kept her face as slack as she could while she approached the man.

"What's up, Tommy?"

The man whipped his head towards her, big blue eyes wide and already tinged red. He looked at her like a desperate dog, leaning towards her. Even his shaggy blonde hair gave off the impression of being a sad, abandoned puppy.

"You got it?" he slobbered.

Alex felt her face fall into a scowl, lifting an eyebrow irritably at the junkie in front of her. "What, no polite conversation? Chivalry really is dead."

"Have you got it?", Tommy demanded desperately.

"Jesus, yes", the girl groaned, sliding her backpack off of her shoulders and digging her hands inside, "Have I ever let you down?"

"Yeah, yeah, you're right", the man giggled like a child, probably already high off of something.

Alex sighed as she felt her hands wrap around the plastic inside her pack. With little hesitation, she lifted up the little plastic baggie filled to the brim with white powder. She quickly threw the now-empty pack back over her shoulder. She could see Tommy practically leaping forward at the sight, arms outstretched in a childlike grab for the powder. Just as he was about to snatch it, Alex pulled it just out of his reach, holding her hand out against his chest to hold him back.

"Uh-uh, not so fast, Dopey", she stated, shoving him back with little effort, "You owe me."

Tommy's blonde hair fell in greasy sheets over his eyes as he hunched over. His beady eyes flicked all over Alex's face as if he were trying to find a proper answer somewhere in it. "Uh, I have- I have the money. I just need to- uh-"

"You know the deal", Alex cut him off, "No money, no coke."

"But I-"

"No buts", she commanded, her voice losing any traces of humor, "I don't fuck around with this, Tommy. Give me two grand and you get your fix. I don't do payment plans."

Tommy's face twisted, turning bright red. His screwed lips opened only for flecks of spit to fly right out. "Fucking cunt!"

Swiping a stray fleck of spit right off of her cheek, Alex shrugged, unphased by the whole thing. "Alright, then. Guess you don't need this shit after all."

It was as if a switch was flipped for the junkie. His stiff, furious posture quickly slackened into a strange sort of pathetic hunch. He swiped at his lips to try and wipe away the spit, his feet shifting nervously underneath him. Big blue eyes bore into Alex's as he shifted closer to her.

"No! No, I- I've got the money. Please, just- I've got it."

He quickly dug into his pockets, producing several crumpled fifties and hundreds that looked to have something sticky on some of their surfaces that shone under the bare traces of the street lights. Alex felt her nose scrunch in disgust at the state of the money. It almost looked like he'd wiped his snot on them. But that didn't really matter

"There's a good boy", she simpered with a slack face, "Now say you're sorry.'

"What?"

Alex felt her lips curl into a smirk, still holding the coke just out of reach. "I said say you're sorry. You learn this crap in kindergarten, you don't get your toys back unless you apologize."

The words seemed to pass straight through the junkie's head. He twitched slightly and couldn't seem to stand steady on his feet.

"C'mon, Tommy", she insisted, "You don't want the Devil to drop in on us while you're making up your mind."

"Fine I'm- I'm sorry. I'm really really sorry", the junkie pleaded, sweat beading on his forehead and skin turning pink, "Please just… just give me my stuff."

Alex felt her smirk fall from her face. She felt her chest constrict and fingers tighten on the little baggie still clutched just above her head. Looking over at the man sweating and begging made her feel sick. He looked so miserable, so desperate, so familiar. Feeling her arm drop down to her side, Alex quickly pushed the feeling down and secured a carefully neutral expression on her face, eyes locking with the junkie in front of her.

"God, all you had to do was ask", she grumbled, tossing him the baggie that he clumsily caught and held to his chest, "Pleasure doing business as always."

Without so much as a thank you, Tommy turned on his heel and ran down the alleyway, leaving Alex standing alone in the bare traces of the fluorescent street lights. "…and he doesn't even say goodbye. What a fucking gentleman."

Looking down at the crumpled bills in her fist, the dark haired woman carefully started to count them. Bits of what felt like melted candy stuck to her fingers from the disgusting paper bills. Cursing, she realized that Tommy had come up nearly a hundred short. Again.

Alex threw a look over her shoulder. Then again down the alley. Careful to note that no one else was around to watch her, she pulled her backpack down and unzipped the front pocket where she kept her own money. Riffling through the carefully stacked bills, Alex snatched a single hundred and crumpled it in her fist. Satisfied that it looked like something Tommy would produce, she released her grip on the money and slipped it into Tommy's pile.

With a few muttered swears, Alex slung her backpack securely over her shoulders and made her way out of the alley and back into the street. The hot, sticky air clung to her skin as she carefully calculated which streets to take back to her home. She couldn't risk being seen by a cop, and it would be worse if she ran into another gang member. They weren't exactly known for being amicable, and she wasn't in the mood to be interrogated about her deals tonight. So she kept to the back streets and areas she knew for sure weren't going to have any deals tonight.

The walk was long. A solid half hour of zig zagging back and forth from one back alley to another. Alex scratched at her skin, feeling sweat and dirt sticking underneath her nails as she did. Soon enough, she saw the red painted door of her apartment building. It barely stood out amongst the other run down doors and buildings, but it was easy to spot for Alex. Unfortunately, standing just beside the front window was the lanky, meticulously groomed Brendon Lynch.

Alex held back a groan as she saw a cigarette dangling from his smirking lips while he looked over at her. His overpriced jacket hung over his sharp shoulders and skinny body. He leaned back on his heels, running his fingers through is overly-greased hair like he owned the whole city block. Barely two years older than her, the man still had the air of a spoiled teenager, which was only tolerated because he was the son of one of the most powerful men in the Irish mob. Well- the new one. That, and he had a penchant for being liberal with his use of a switchblade. He'd been worse since Wilson Fisk brought his father's small time gang deep into Hell's Kitchen's crime syndicate, and even worse when Fisk fell nearly a month ago, leaving a crime vacuum in the city for them to fill.

"Well hello, Lexi", he simpered, smoke puffing out from his lips as his beady eyes raked her up and down, "How's your night going?"

Alex rolled her eyes at the nickname he never ceased to use with her.

"What did I say about coming to my apartment, Brendon?" she demanded, already feeling her face heat up at the sight of the man sauntering in front of her, "What are you doing here?"

The man shrugged, his lanky figure seeming to ripple down as he did. The smoke dispersed around his sharp, smiling face. "Thought the door was always open for me?"

"Ready and waiting to slam straight in your face", the girl sniped back, "My home is off limits."

"Whatever", he shrugged her off, completely ignoring Alex, "Had to make sure you didn't run off with the money."

Alex felt her face screw up in indignation, lips tight and nostrils flared. Ripping the backpack off of her shoulders, she quickly dug her hand in and held out the wads of cash from the night's jobs. A solid twelve thousand dollars stuck together with Tommy's loose bills sticking to the otherwise organized stack. "Go screw yourself. I've got your fucking money."

Brendon stuck his cigarette back between his lips. "I just thought-"

"I have the money."

"Clearly", the greasy man conceded, though not without a condescending grin spreading on his lips. He turned his beady eyes back to the stack of cash, skillfully counting the bills quickly and cleanly. His smirk turned downward into a petulant frown. "Well, looks like you had a weak haul today."

"It's a Wednesday", Alex shrugged, throwing her pack back over her shoulder, "Corporate douches usually stock up on Thursdays before their big business trips."

"And yet those corporate douches seem to love to buy from you", he responded, turning his eyes on her again, "Can't be the looks. Must be your sparkling personality."

Alex silently tried to keep her temper in check. She only had so much room to insult him, and she was very careful not to cross that line. Everyone knew what Brendon did to people who pushed him too far, or just annoyed him too much. And everyone knew his father would cover up for his rabid dog of a son.

"Tommy tried to come up short." she provided, jaw tight as she did.

The other man's brows rose up in interest. It hadn't been the first time this particular junkie had tried to hustle them. "Did you cover him?"

"What do you think?" she countered, trying to keep her eyes from flicking around and giving herself away, "Count the money."

"Why do you always have to be so bitchy to me?"

Alex felt her nose wrinkle in annoyance. "Just an idea, but maybe I'm a bitch."

"Maybe you should get it pounded out of you…" he simpered, leaning forward suggestively. His hands reached for Alex's hips, fingers barely brushing her before she took a defiant step back.

"Didn't you just call me ugly?" she spat, feeling her muscles clench in protest against his touch.

"Never said ugly, Lexi", he said in what was half reassurance and half demand, "Sometimes you just gotta take what you can get."

He reached out and firmly gripped her just above the hip, squeezing her flesh like he wanted to mark her with his fingerprints. Alex nearly gagged, the scent of nicotine thick on his breath and the feel of his hands on her leaving a disgusting feeling that she couldn't name. She quickly shoved his hand off of her, stepping back and carefully averting her gaze. It'd only piss him off more if she looked him in the eyes.

"What are you doing here, Brendon?"

Throwing his hands up in playful defeat, the tall man sauntered back. "Fine. I'll get to the point. I've got another job for you tonight."

"I'm off the clock", she stated simply, turning towards her door.

Before she could even take a step, she felt a hand grip her arm harshly and wrench her backwards. Alex swallowed a cry of surprise as she felt her feet drag and she was held right in front of the lanky man once again.

"I never said it was optional", he spat, his grip tightening on her arm, "You don't want me telling them you're living up to your family name, now do you?"

Alex's entire body froze. She felt her skin heat up and she would bet that her face had turned bright red. She knew what that threat meant, her mother and friend's faces flashing in her mind. She was practically biting the insides of her lips to keep herself from ripping into the spoiled piece of shit in front of her. Instead, she stood shock still, fists clenched and fighting to keep herself silent.

The whole image seemed to flip Brendon's mood almost instantly. His sneer turned into his usual smirk that made him look like an asshole. He leaned forward, levelling his gaze with hers.

"There you go", he muttered, eyes falling down to her red cheeks and tight lips in a way that made Alex's skin crawl, "That's how I like you. Maybe you should practice keeping your mouth shut. I'll help you if you like."

Alex nearly gagged, but kept herself in check. She stared down the man in front of her and saw that he was quickly losing interest in her lack of response. Pulling himself back up to full height, he gazed down at her with what could only be described as sick interest. He shot her a smile that he seemed to think was charming while finally letting go of her arm. The skin throbbed and Alex knew that it would leave a bruise later.

"The job's on 11th and 53rd", he provided as if he hadn't just threatened her, "Two other guys are gonna be there."

"Who?", she managed to croak out, keeping her gaze to the side.

"Jack and Noah", he replied.

Alex couldn't hold in a scoff at the names. "Those two are morons."

"Clearly", Brendon chuckled, shrugging and sliding his hands in his pockets, "That's why I need you there. Jack's shit at math and Noah has a tendency to get a little happy with his fists. And this buyer is someone my pops wants to keep around."

"Some corporate piece of shit, I'm guessing?"

"You always were a sharp one, Lexi", Brendon smirked, jerking his chin in the direction of the deal, "You better get a move on. Deal's in less than thirty minutes. The boys already have the goods. Don't want those two shitheads screwing it up before you get there."

Feeling her throat contract, Alex swallowed and nodded. She kept her gaze away from Brendon, choosing instead to walk around him and head in the direction of the job. The small gesture only made her angrier. But still she kept her mouth shut. She couldn't afford to piss him off more tonight, and she didn't have the energy to fight.

The place was by the park, just a few dozen feet from the entrance. Just secluded enough to not draw attention but not popular enough with junkies to be suspicious. Alex figured it must be someone with money if they wanted to meet there. Someone who didn't want to be seen. She could understand the desire. However, she couldn't bring herself to care much. All she needed to do was get through the deal, put up with Jack and Noah for less than ten minutes, and get home.

She got to the drop quickly, seeing both men loitering around a park bench that was one seat away from breaking apart. Noah had a joint stuck between his lips and Jack was messing around on his phone, leaning against a car that must have been left behind by someone at the bar only a block away. Alex scoffed, noting they looked more like bored high school students than anyone who could hold their own in a deal.

"Hey, shitheads!", she called out carefully, "You got what we need?"

A boyish smile spread across Jack's pale face. His brown curls fell over his forehead, making him look much younger than he was. "Ready whenever."

"Got the stuff right here", Noah cut in, hoisting up a tattered backpack with way too much pride.

"Okay, put that away", Alex hissed, swatting the backpack away from her, "Look, we're just gonna go through with the deal and get out of here. No fucking after party, okay? In and out."

Both men shrugged, barely listening to her. She rolled her eyes, not expecting much else. Instead, all three of them waited for the buyer in annoyed silence.

They remained like that for ten minutes. Then twenty. Minutes ticked by as Alex waited for the buyer. Nervous, she looked down the darkened street in the hopes that someone would be walking down.

"Where the hell is this guy?", Noah groaned, grinding the stub of his joint under his heel, "He was supposed to be here, like, an hour ago."

"Maybe he got jumped?" Jack provided dumbly.

Alex chuckled, glaring over at the curly haired man across from her. "Last I checked, all the criminals are right here."

Stepping up away from the car, Jack sneered over at Alex. "Watch it, bitch. This is our deal."

"Yeah?" Alex, not at all scared by this guy, stepped right up to him. They were the same height, which made it easy to look a little more intimidating. "Well, I'm the only one who knows what the hell she's doing. You may be the one selling, but I'm the one running this deal."

"Just because you're Brendon's fucking pet project doesn't mean you get to take over our operations."

"No", Alex simpered, "You two being incompetent junkies means I get to take over. I'm in deeper than either of you, and I don't plan of having you two screw up everything I've had to work for. Get it?"

Jack seemed to slump under her gaze, pouting as he took a step back from her. Alex couldn't help the flicker of satisfaction in her chest as she watched him back down.

In hindsight, Alex would later come to note that her biggest mistake was that one stupid statement.

Still holding onto the satisfaction of shutting Jack up, the dark haired woman almost missed the rustling behind her. Whipping her head around, Alex felt her brows pull together at the noise, which had quickly disappeared. "Did you guys hear that?"

"What?" Jack sneered, "Getting nervous now, boss?"

Despite the fact that she could have shaken it off and put Jack in his place again, Alex couldn't help the little chill up her spine. She knew all too well what happened to criminals when they stayed out too late in Hell's Kitchen. "I- I think we need to leave."

"You scared of a little noise?" Jack continued to taunt her. Alex whipped her head around to glare over at the man.

"Hey man, lay off", Noah slurred, high off his ass.

"Look, they buyer's clearly not coming", Alex insisted, feeling her hair stand on end, "Let's just go-"

Suddenly, out of the dark, a hand reached out and grabbed Jack by the back of his jacket. Alex couldn't help the scream that ripped its way out of her throat when she saw the figure grabbing Jack slam him down into the concrete. Noah was screaming just a few feet from her, too sluggish and high to move quickly enough to get out of the way. With Jack clutching his head on the ground, the figure stepped up into the streetlight towards Noah.

Alex felt her eyes widen as she realized who was attacking, the one who had given everyone working on the streets nightmares for almost a year: Daredevil.

Stumbling back as quickly as she could, Alex started running as fast as she could down the street. As she did, she turned her head for a second to see if the devil was pursuing her, only to feel her toes slam into a large crack in the sidewalk. She fell hard onto the ground, the skin on the heels of her hands ripping up as she tried to break her fall. She tumbled down, her whole body rolling against the uneven and sharp concrete. Her knee slammed into the ground with an audible rip, her jeans ripping apart on impact. Alex let out a yelp as she felt her knee burn and blood trickle down her calf. Desperate, she tried to push herself up, but felt her leg give out as she tried to put weight on it. Feeling her breathing become more ragged and panicked, she noticed a car not too far from her. Quickly, she dragged herself behind the car, curling in on herself to try and make herself as indistinguishable as possible.

"Holy shit", she gasped, feeling like her heart was going to beat straight out of her ribcage, "Holy shit- holy shit!"

Peering cautiously around the side of the car, Alex tried to see what was happening. It was too dark to see who was who in the fight, and she quickly gave up on it. It was all drowned out in the sounds of fists on jaws and bones breaking. Instead she tried to keep her breathing under control as she pressed herself bruisingly close against the tire of the car. She knew she had to get out, and get out fast. Nodding to herself and trying to build up the courage to run, she brought herself up to her knees. She winced as she tried to put weight on her knee, feeling the blood running down her leg at an worrying rate.

Apparently Jack had the same idea. He was dumber than a pile of bricks but apparently had the brains to try and run. Looking up, she saw that his face was beaten badly, blood pouring out of his nose and mouth.

Suddenly, a body flew into the windshield just behind her, the feet slamming carelessly into the back of Jack's head. Alex screamed, curling in on herself and shaking as glass flew over her and stuck in her hair. The body tumbled down off of the hood of the car right next to her, forcing Alex to see Noah's bloody, open face. She could feel bile rising in her throat at the sight of it. Jack crumpled down under him, crying out in pain as he tried to push Noah's heavy body off of him.

Then, out of the darkness, was the black clad vigilante himself. Moving quickly and precisely, he kneeled down and delivered a harsh blow to Jack's head, knocking him out cold. Alex pressed herself further against the car, her heart rate out of control. Then, slowly, she saw Daredevil's partially covered face turn towards her.

Terrified, Alex scrambled backwards towards the street, trying to put as much distance as she could between herself and the vigilante. Her ragged breath ripped through her throat as she watched Daredevil easily make his way over to her and grab her by the front of her hoodie, hauling her up onto her feet and slamming her back into the side of the car. Alex let out a short scream, starting to lose it.

"Be quiet", he demanded, his voice surprisingly low and quiet, "I have a few questions."

"W-what?", Alex manages to stutter, her arms going up instinctively to try and dissuade the black clad man from hurting her, "I d- I don't know what you-"

"Who reports to Fisk?"

The dark haired girl stopped shaking for a millisecond, instead looking up at the vigilante confused. "Wh-what?"

"Your organization", he elaborated, voice unnervingly even, "You worked for Fisk before he went under. Who keeps tabs on his orders?"

Alex felt her chest contracting, truly unsure of what she had to say to escape this situation. She racked her brain, remembering only snippets of Brendon bragging about something to do with Fisk. "I don't- I don't know anything. I swear, I- I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Weren't you just saying you were the one running the deal?'

Feeling her mouth open and shut like a gaping fish, Alex had no response.

Daredevil's partially covered face tilted to the side. "It's not a good idea to lie to me. You mentioned someone named Brendon. Who is he?"

Part of Alex told her to tell him everything, but the rest of her knew the consequences of that. But they were hard to focus on with the Devil himself staring her in the face.

"I c- I can't. I swear, I don't know any-"

Suddenly, Daredevil's gloved hand lifted up into a fist and slammed into the car window just an inch away from Alex's face. She screamed, snapping her head away as quickly as she could. She felt tears spill involuntarily from her eyes, crying out and trying to regain her breath.

"I said", the man said lowly, face only a few inches from her own, "don't lie to me."

"O-okay!", she sputtered, feeling spit flying from her mouth and snot running from her nose. This always happened when she started crying. Shakily, she raised her gaze to the black mask, her entire body shaking violently. "He- he's the boss's son. He's in charge of the- the small time deals. Coke, heroin, th-that sorta stuff."

"Is that all you've got?"

"I- I really don't-", she pleaded, her words choppy and shaky, "I can't say- please don't hurt me. I can't say anything!"

Alex could see Daredevil's brows pulling down underneath the mask, his lips tugging into a deeper frown.

Tightening his grip on her shirt and pressing her further against the car, his lips parted, a scowl on his face.

"What's your name?" he demanded.

"Alex", she panted, too terrified to say anything other than the truth.

She watched at the vigilante's head tilted by a fraction of an inch, face turned towards her as if he were trying to memorize her. Her heart pounded against her chest, feeling as if he were committing her to memory. The whole thing felt off, making her stomach twist.

"We're not done."

Then, without warning, he slammed her back against the car and let go of her hoodie. Without the vigilante holding her up, Alex collapsed onto the ground, her leg throbbing as she did. She didn't take her eyes off of him for a second, seeing him retreat into a darkened alley not even twenty feet away. The black outfit made him blend into the shadows, making him indistinguishable from the darkness around them.

Not needing to stick around much longer, Alex scrambled to her feet, ignoring the throbbing all the way down her leg. She broke into a half run-half limp out of the park as quickly as she could. She ran all the way back to her apartment, slamming her shoulder into the door in her haste to get inside. She stumbled up the stairs, making her way to her door. With shaking fingers, she pulled out her key and barely managed to slide it into the lock before nearly falling straight down onto her floor.

She slammed the door behind her, locking it and putting on the deadbolt. Feeling her heart still racing, Alex leaned against the door and slid down onto the ground. Attempting to get her breath under control, she pressed her head into her hands as the smell of blood soaked into the air.

She had no idea why he had questioned her, or if the vigilante really would have hurt her. She was tall, but skinny to the point of looking like a good gust of wind would snap her in half. She was small time, no one important to anything or anyone. Besides, it would have looked really bad for him to beat up a woman if nothing else.

 _We're not done._

His words rang in her ears. She had no idea what that meant. Could he find her? Had he followed her home? How stupid was she for running straight home. She could have lead him right to her.

Alex sat like that for nearly an hour, not knowing that this terror and confusion would only last until the next night. It would only take a day for her to run into the Devil of Hell's Kitchen again.

* * *

 **A/N: So guess who needed to fill a Matt Murdock sized hole in her heart. This girl!**

 **Just a note that I'm using the black ninja outfit for this fic because, to be perfectly honest, I didn't like the daredevil outfit too much. Just thought I'd mention that. Also can't wait to introduce you all to my newest child, Alex Moreno.**

 **I promise I'm updating Out In The Wild soon. This story just took over my brain.**


	2. A Totally Normal Alley Meetup

Alex nearly jumped out of the bed at the sound of someone slamming their fist into her door. She grimaced as the rose, feeling her head pound in protest. Slowly, she slid her legs out of bed as quietly as she could. She couldn't help the small groan that escaped her lips as she felt her swollen and shredded knee throb as she moved. It was wrapped up sloppily in gauze that was now stained red and brown with dried blood.

Snatching up her sweatpants and pepper spray, Alex moved slowly through her bedroom. She stepped carefully over several old piles of clothes and crumpled up papers. She was certain that if the Devil of Hell's Kitchen was coming to torture her, he wasn't going to announce his presence. Still, she didn't want to risk it.

"Alex, wake your ass up!", called out a familiar voice behind the door, "We've got a shift in an hour!"

Feeling her breath nearly fall out of her chest with relief, Alex dropped the pepper spray on the counter beside her and leaned down to tug on her sweatpants to cover up her injured knee. She nearly tripped on her pant leg while still trying to keep all her weight on one foot.

"Just a second!" she called back, hopping on one leg towards the door as she pulled her pants up. Knotting the drawstring, she unbolted the door and pulled it open to reveal her friend Mandy standing on the other side with two fast food bags clutched in her hands. Her curly brown hair was pulled up in a wild ponytail and her dark skin was flushed from walking up the three flights of stairs it took to get to Alex's apartment.

"You know that shit rots your insides", Alex noted, nodding towards the greasy bags in Mandy's hands.

She shrugged, a smirk already playing at the edges of her lips. "Bring it up with the doctors we can't afford."

"Fair point."

Mandy didn't bother waiting to be invited, sauntering into the apartment like she had for the last few years like clockwork. She dropped the bags of food on the counter, plopping right down into the chair beside her and propping her legs up on the counter. Her oversized jeans were held up only by a large brown belt since Mandy almost religiously refused to wear pants her own size.

"So", she drawled, pulling out greasy hash brown from one of the bags, "What's on the agenda for today?"

"Other than work?", Alex responded, shutting and locking the door, "Nothing."

"What about your other job?"

"Nah", she responded easily, "Courtside isn't until tomorrow. I can keep all my clothes on tonight."

Mandy's face scrunched up in disgust, pretending to gag. "I still don't get why you work at that misogynistic hellhole."

The dark haired girl sighed, beginning to limp over to the counter. She absolutely hated talking about her second job at Hell's Kitchen's sleaziest sports bar. "Well, it helps with the bills, and the girls there aren't so bad-"

"Hold up", Mandy interrupted, her hand shooting out and pointing right at her leg, "What the hell happened there?"

Alex froze, her bum leg hovering an inch above the ground. She swiped her thick hair back nervously, trying to seem calm. "It's- uh, it's nothing."

She could feel Mandy glaring at her, the feeling of her gaze making Alex flush. Her friend's lip curled down into a scowl as she pulled her legs down off of the counter and stood up from the chair. "You know the deal, Moreno. You tell me everything about your other job- your _other_ other job."

"Mandy, I know-"

"Did Brendon do this to you?", she demanded, her face softening with worry as she made her way over to Alex to help guide her over to the chair she has just been occupying, "If he did, I'll kick his ass."

Alex snorted, dropping down into the chair less than gracefully. "Brendon's all talk. I think he'd rather screw me than dismember me."

"What a glowing review." Mandy deadpanned, passing Alex a breakfast sandwich, "Isn't he the one who keeps trying to push the gang's new name? Hell's Wraiths?"

"Technically the name's not new. Just the whole, you know, notoriety thing." She quickly snatched up the food, shoving it in her mouth. She hadn't eaten since breakfast the day before and she was starving. Swiping some grease from the corner of her mouth, Alex continued. "It definitely lacks creativity, though. No, well- uh, you… you know Daredevil?"

Alex watched as Mandy's scowl morphed into an almost comically surprised face. Her jaw went slack and her eyes went wide as she took in what her friend had said. Her mouth opened and closed before she managed to sputter out a response. "He- _the_ Daredevil? He did this to you?"

"Well…", she sighed, quickly rubbing at her forehead distractedly, "Sort of. No. Kinda. He showed up to this- this deal Brendon forced me to go to. Beat the shit out of the guys I was with. I tried to get out of there but…"

"You tripped on your own damn feet." Mandy finished, grabbing at Alex's face without any warning.

"Hey! What are you-"

"Shut it", she cut off, eyes probing all over Alex's face, scanning her hairline and jaw for any signs of injury. "Your face is fine. I'm assuming you're not hiding some broken rib under your shirt. You promise it's just your leg?"

"Yes."

"And you're still keeping tabs on everything?"

Alex's eyes flicked over to the open notebook on her counter. She'd been taking note of everything and everyone she came into contact with since she was forced to start working with the Wraith's. Dealers, bosses, what they sold. Who they sold. Everytime something major went down, Alex kept the evidence. Not like she had anyone to give it to. Half the cops in Hell's Kitchen were in someone's pocket, and she had no way of knowing who would help her and who would kill her.

Alex swatted her friend's hands off of her face, scowling up at her. "Yes. Yes, I promise. You can quit with the third degree. You're not my mother."

"And thank God for that", she sighed, snatching up her hashbrown from the counter and shoving it in her mouth, "Your mom's a piece of shit. You heard from her lately?"

The dark haired girl shrugged, feeling her face drop. She hated talking about her mother. "You know I haven't. Most I've heard about her lately is she's about five grand deeper in debt. My bet's on heroin this time."

Mandy snarled. She hated Alex's mom almost as much as Alex did, considering she was the only other person in the world who knew who Trudy Moreno really was. "Whatever. Just glad she's not still leaving you voicemails. And you're letting me check your ribs before we leave."

Feeling her lips quirk up a little, Alex nodded and took another bite of her breakfast sandwich, trying to ignore the knot in her stomach that still lingered from the night before.

* * *

No more than a few streets down, Matt Murdock was having an equally exhausting morning. And for once, it wasn't from his nighttime activities. Instead, he sat holed up in his office with Foggy poring over their latest case. After their takedown of Fisk, Nelson & Murdock had managed to garner some mild success. Karen wasn't in yet, having gone out to get coffee. That left the two men to go over their latest case.

Matt's fingers flew over his copies of the testimonies Karen and Foggy had managed to take down during their meeting with Mrs. Velasquez. The older woman's heavy perfume still lingered in the office, coating Matt's tongue and forcing him to try not to gag. Instead, he focused his attention on on the rather gruesome but confusing account of their client's sons death.

"I'm telling you, Matt", Foggy groaned, "There's not enough evidence to take this to court."

Matt shrugged, finishing off the last of the page he was on. "She said he was wrapped up in some pretty deep shit with the Wraiths. Drugs, guns. It's not a stretch to think he got in too deep."

"Yeah, but believing it's true doesn't make it that way." Foggy countered, leaning back in his chair, "She has no evidence. Maybe it was a deal gone bad. The Wraiths deal in some messed up product, not impossible for him to get hooked up with the wrong dealer."

"You really think it was a junkie?"

Matt listened as Foggy groaned, slamming his head into his hands. "No. No I do not think it was a junkie. But what the hell kind of case do we have with no evidence that the Wraiths put a hit on Ms. Velasquez's son? We don't have any evidence that they were involved at all. Also, what the hell kind of name is the Hell's Wraiths?"

Matt chuckled, leaning back in his chair at his friend's tone. "I don't think creativity is their strong suit."

Foggy scoffed, pushing the file in front of him back with disgust. "This photo begs to differ."

"Still can't see it, buddy."

"I know that", he retorted, "But you know what they did. They chopped off parts of him I didn't even know existed. Nothing this gruesome can be called anything but creative."

Matt nodded, remembering his friend describing the crime scene photos. He'd spilled his fair share of blood, but whoever did this enjoyed it way too much. Christopher Velasquez- no older than seventeen- was cut up and left for dead in a dumpster just two days prior. One hand was missing, along with several toes and a piece of his left ear. The cops had all but dismissed the case when the autopsy found large amounts of cocaine in his system.

"We'll find something concrete", Matt assured his friend, "We just have to dig deeper. There has to be something they left behind, some sort of… marker or brand. If it's really gang related, they would have left a warning to anyone who saw the body. Something we wouldn't notice right away."

"God, you sound like someone off Law and Order", Foggy grumbled, snatching the photo's out of the file.

The blind man couldn't help but crack a smile. "Please don't compare me to that show."

Foggy shrugged, barely paying attention to Matt as he looked over the photo's. "What? That show's been running for, what? Eighty years? They've gotta be doing something right."

Matt smirked, going back to his copy of the testimony and trying to get any information he could out of Mrs. Velasquez's testimony. The deeper he went, the less he came up with. There was nothing his client said that gave any specific indication of who had killed her son and why. His head began to pound as he pored over her words over and over again. Sighing, he rubbed at his temples to try and push back the throbbing in his skull.

"Yeah, you're telling me buddy", Foggy piped, dropping his papers on the table, "I mean, if we had someone who knew more about the Wraiths. Someone willing to talk, we could figure out what this kill meant. Why it went down, if it's gonna happen again."

As Foggy went on, Matt's mind went back to the dealer he'd managed to briefly interrogate the night before. The way her heart jumped, the way he'd managed to get some information from her with relatively little effort on his part. Granted, she'd been injured and had watched him take town her partners. Slowly, an idea formed in his mind. And Foggy clearly took notice.

"No", he stated bluntly, "Whatever it is, no."

"I haven't said anything", Matt argured.

"I know that look. That look means you've got-", Foggy quickly cut himself off, looking to the door to see if Karen had returned, "...you've got Daredevil related ideas. And I want no part of it."

Matt sighed, getting ready to explain himself as rationally as he could. "Look, I intercepted a deal last night with three Wraiths. They've got ties to Fisk, I figured I could get some information out of them. One of them started talking."

Foggy kept looking over at the door before groaning and glaring over at his friend. "What did he give you?"

"She didn't give me much", Matt admitted, "But the way she talked, she said she couldn't tell me anything."

"So…", Foggy drawled, "It's a dead end?"

"She didn't say she wouldn't tell me, she said she couldn't." Matt argued, leaning forward in his chair, "That means they probably have something on her."

"Most likely the threat of bodily harm" his friend pointed out exasperatedly, "I've described these photos in great detail, Murdock. Even you'd be at least a little hesitant to snitch on people who do this."

"But she gave me something."

The blind man could feel his friend getting more frustrated as he went on. Foggy kept running his hands through his hair and looking over at the door like he was scared Karen would catch them at any moment. With a groan, he dropped his hands on the table and looked back over at his friend.

"Fine", Foggy gave in, "What did this elusive, most likely heartbreakingly attractive woman give you?"

"How would- how is that the point, Foggy?"

Foggy jabbed a finger at his friend accusingly. "The point is you've somehow found another beautiful woman with a shady backstory to torture me with. It's a freaking pattern with you, Murdock."

Matt bit back any arguments he had. They'd had this argument more times than was ever necessary, and he knew his friend wasn't about to let go of his idea of Matt using beautiful women to make his life a living hell.

"She gave me a name." Matt stated calmly, "The boss's son. Someone named Brendon."

That seemed to catch Foggy's attention. He sat up straighter, seeming to listen a little closer. "She didn't give you a last name. She seems like a terrible informant."

"She'll give it to me." Matt insisted, "I just have to…"

"Torture her?"

The room suddenly went silent. Even without his senses, Matt would have been able to feel the tension that had come up with that one statement. The inside of his chest tugged painfully, unsure of what to respond with.

"I didn't say that."

"I've seen your leftovers, Matt." Foggy responded quietly, "Unfortunately, I know what you do now."

"It's not gonna be like that", he assured him, "I'll just scare her. Get what I need for this case and get out."

Foggy sighed, running his fingers through his hair again. "As a member of the legal profession, I can't condone this."

"That's noted."

"You're gonna do it anyway, aren't you?"

"I never said that."

Foggy let out a long sigh, leaning back dejectedly in his chair. "How the hell are you even gonna find this girl? Do your superpowers extend to super stalking?"

"I know where some smaller dealers are." Matt offered, trying to reassure his friend as best he could, "The guys she was with the night before clearly knew who she was. I figure some others might, too."

"This is so messed up."

Matt shrugged. "Never said it wasn't."

* * *

Leaning forward on the counter, Alex lifted her heels up off the floor to give her aching feet a break. She'd been working a double shift for almost twelve hours, dealing with drunk and handsy customers since what felt like dawn. Two fights had broken out, leaving her to clean up the broken glass and traces of blood from the already disgustingly dirty floor. Now, the whole place was empty, save herself and Mandy. They'd been stuck with the closing shift. She leaned even further over the counter that separated the dining area and the kitchen, the smell of syrup and bacon grease burning up her nose.

Alex could hear Mandy speaking beside her, no doubt throwing her hands around dramatically. But she was barely listening to her friend ramble beside her, instead spending her energy glaring ruefully up at the clock above the front door to the diner. She stared so hard her eyes felt like they might fall out, though she figured that was the exhaustion.

Out of nowhere, she could see a hand waving over her face. Without blinking, she swatted the hand away and kept sneering up at the clock.

"Earth to Moreno", Mandy insisted, chuckling as she retracted her hand, "I've been talking for, like, five minutes. What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Alex shrugged dejectedly, finally taking her eyes off the clock. "Trying to make the clock run faster."

"And how's that working out for you?"

Pointing up lazily, the dark haired woman rolled her eyes and leaned down further onto the diner counter. "Take a look for yourself. Still stuck at one forty."

"Well damn", Mandy sighed, flicking her curly brown hair back over her shoulder, "We'll have to wait to send in your application for the Avengers."

Alex couldn't help the snort that escaped her lips, running her hands through the loose dark locks of hair that fell over her eyes. "Yeah, I'm sure Tony Stark is waiting around for a waitress from Hell's Kitchen to waltz in and help him battle aliens."

"Hey, don't sell yourself short", the dark skinned girl lilted, pushing herself up off the counter, "You have the absolutely stunning superpower of making time move at an exceedingly normal pace."

"Ha ha", Alex deadpanned, following Mandy and pushing herself back up to a standing position, "You should go on tour with that bit."

"You bet I should", she responded snarkily, "I'd be the sexiest comedian in New York."

Moving around the counter, Alex snatched up the tub resting on the counter and made her way over to the nearest booth. She carefully placed all the dishes from the table inside the tub while Mandy carelessly scrubbed away at the syrup stains on the table. Alex nearly gagged at the feeling of bits of eggs and ketchup floating around in the already murky dishwater. As the two continued to clean up the empty diner, Alex could feel Mandy's eyes on her the whole time.

"You got something to say?"

Mandy opened her mouth, silent for a few moments as she tried to formulate words. "You know there's always an air mattress for you at my place."

Alex chuckled, dismissing the offer immediately. "Yeah, I don't think your girlfriend would be too thrilled about that."

"Have you met Reagan?" Mandy scoffed, rubbing away at a particularly sticky pool of syrup, "She'd probably throw you a moving in party, complete with homemade cookies and that Vietnamese food she's so fucking good at."

"Probably because she is Vietnamese", the dark haired girl pointed out snarkily.

"Okay, whatever asshole", Mandy retorted, tossing her rag into the tub at Alex's side, "You know what I'm trying to say here. You've got a safe place to land if things go sideways."

"I've been doing this for over a year", Alex reassured her, picking up the heavy tub of dishes from the table, "So far, everything has remained fairly upright."

"Upright, my ass", Mandy mumbled under her breath, following her friend into the kitchen where Alex was dumping dishes into the sink. She scrubbed hastily at the greasy plates, feeling the hot water scald her skin. The two women worked in tandem for several silent minutes, managing to get through most of the dishes before she heard Mandy hiss under her breath.

"Shit."

"What?" Alex inquired, wiping her hair off of her forehead with the back of her hand.

"Nothing", Mandy responded, glancing up at the clock above the sink, "I just promised Reagan I'd be home by now. She wanted some help on a presentation for work."

Alex shrugged, turning back to the dishes. "Go ahead. I've got the rest."

"Alex, it's not-"

"Seriously", she reassured her friend, giving her a tired smile, "I've got it. Go home to your girlfriend."

Mandy looked like she was about to protest, but slowly shut her mouth. She wiped her hands on her jeans before looking softly up at Alex. "I'll close out next time."

"You better", Alex responded with a smirk.

With a grin, Mandy quickly kissed Alex on the cheek and threw her apron on the counter. "You're the best, Moreno."

Alex chuckled as she listened to Mandy run out of the diner, the door bell jingling behind her. She turned back to the remainder of the dishes, lazily finishing up and putting everything back. She casually threw her apron back onto the hook in the kitchen and snatched her backpack off of the hook beside it. She then made her way towards the fridge, pulling out two large tupperware boxes out of her bag. She quickly snatched up several packages of frozen vegetables and what was left of what customers had sent back throughout the day. She quickly filled up her tupperware with pancakes and bacon and eggs. Throwing them back into her backpack, she shut the fridge and slung her bag over her shoulder.

Turning off the lights and snagging the keys to the front door from one of her pockets, Alex sauntered out onto the sidewalk and locked the door behind her. The late night darkness and street lights were familiar to her as she made her way back in the direction of her house.

She really should have been paying attention to what was going on around her.

As Alex absentmindedly shoved her keys in the front pocket of her backpack, she suddenly felt a hand wrap its way around her arm. Just as she started to scream, a gloved hand gripped her by the jaw and over her mouth, silencing her. She thrashed around, trying to kick and scratch at whoever was behind her, but they were strong. They dragged her back into an alley, pulling her out of the light of the streetlamps and slamming her back against the brick wall behind her. Their grip on her arm twisted it beside her, threatening and painful. With wide eyes, she finally looked into the masked face of the man she'd been terrified to ever run into again. She could feel her chest burn with the muffled, panicked breaths being blocked from entering her lungs.

"I'm going to remove my hand from your mouth", he instructed her quietly, "It's in your best interest not to scream. Do you understand?"

Without hesitating, Alex nodded her head. She felt his grip loosen on her jaw, hearing the edge pop from the pressure. True to her word, she didn't make as sound. Instead, she stared up at the vigilante, trying to hide the fact that she was shaking from the inside out.

"You're- you're him", she gasped, her voice shaking, "You're- what are you- how'd you find me?"

"I have a few questions for you", he responded, ignoring her question.

"How'd you find me?", Alex insisted, feeling her face twist into a scowl.

The vigilante didn't move, still only inches from her as he considered her. "Your other dealers aren't as loyal as you might think."

The dark haired girl couldn't help the scoff that escaped her lips. "No one's loyal when they're being tortured. That's your thing, right? Torturing junkies?"

"I said I had a few questions for you", he growled, pressing her further against the brick wall. She could feel the stone cutting into her shoulder blades, reminding her of just who she was talking to. She quickly shut her mouth, trying to put as much distance between herself and the Devil of Hell's Kitchen as possible. "Who killed Christopher Velasquez?"

Alex felt her brows knit together in confusion. "Who?"

"One of your runners", he clarified, "Dismembered and left for dead in a dumpster a few blocks down. What do you know about it?"

"I- I had nothing to do with that", she panted desperately, "I swear, I didn't."

"Then who did?", he demanded, his voice eerily even and low.

Alex's pulse jumped. She knew exactly who would dismember a kid. "I- I really can't-"

"If you're thinking about lying to me", he cut her off, "Don't."

Alex suddenly felt his grip tightening on her arm, twisting it backwards. She yelped, feeling her muscles and bone protesting against the nearly bone breaking angle he'd forced her into. Her breath started to become ragged, panic setting in again. "P-please stop. I can't- I can't help you!"

He twisted again, causing Alex to cry out. She could feel her skin burn as he twisted it around her arm. She watched at his jaw tightened, his whole body stiffening as he twisted harder and harder, her bone ready to snap at any moment. Her fingers had gone numb, blood no longer circulating beneath his fingers. "Stop! Please- please stop!"

Suddenly, his shoulders went stiff and he stopped pulling. Quickly, he let go of her arm as if she'd burned him. He didn't step back, but he'd let her go. Alex cried out again, curling in on herself as she shakily cradled her arm close to her middle. She could already feel the bruises forming under her skin. Her numb fingers began to prick painfully as blood came back into her hand. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Daredevil shake his head slowly, stepping back a fraction of an inch.

She didn't know what it was, but watching the Devil of Hell's Kitchen begin to walk away felt wrong. Like an opportunity slipping through the cracks. Her mind flashed back to the notebook sitting on her counter. The countless crimes she'd seen and heard about that would go unpunished.

"You're trying to take down the Wraith's, right?"

That caught his attention. His head turned towards her, clearly listening. She had no idea why she was talking, but her mouth just seemed to keep moving. Spite and desperation burned her throat as the words left. "You're looking in the wrong places."

"What?" he questioned, still as he took in her words.

"Y-you asked about Fisk", she continued, feeling her body begin to shake again, "He's not the one in control anymore."

The vigilante stood still, almost as if he hadn't heard her. But she knew better. She could see his head tilt to the side slowly, like he was taking in every syllable she'd stuttered out. "I thought you said you didn't know anything."

Alex took a step back, still cradling her arm which was now beginning to throb. "I- I know who reported to him. And you're wrong. They don't answer to him anymore. They're off the leash."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"That's why the kid's dead", she continued, ignoring him altogether, "I didn't know him, but everyone knows who does that shit to people. What happens when you talk."

Slowly, Daredevil took a step towards her, making her flinch. "What are you telling me?"

Alex could feel the inside of her chest begin to shake, her whole body twitching nervously. The reality of what she was considering came crashing down inside her, making her insides feel like they were knotting up and her stomach lurch. "Shit… shit, I- I shouldn't- I can't-"

"Alex, tell me." he demanded, standing over her like a shadow, "Now. What do they have on you?"

"It's not me. You don't get it." she panted, feeling her throat begin to burn as he held her head in her hands, "After Fisk… they only got worse. If- if they knew I- shit, they'd- they'd probably do something worse to…"

"I wouldn't worry about them right now. I'd worry about me."

Slowly, Alex looked up at the vigilante. She knew what he was, what he did to people like her. But she also knew she didn't want to die having done nothing. She couldn't keep living like that, and she didn't want it to consume her anymore.

"You want them gone." she said slowly, rising up to his height, "The Wraith's, everything they do. The- the drugs, the trafficking. Everything. You want it gone. I do to. I- I think I can help you."

* * *

 **hunterofmiracles: Thank you so much!**

 **Donny Donowitz: You are seriously too sweet! So happy you're enjoying the story.**


	3. Deal With The Devil

The alley remained silent as Alex stared over at the Devil of Hell's Kitchen. The way his face remained still under his mask unsettled her, like he was calculating something. Something that probably wouldn't work out in her favor. She noted dumbly that they were almost the same height, giving her the slightest amount of comfort. This was a real man, with real height. A real man who could snap her neck and leave her for dead in this alleyway with no one to stop him.

"Why do you want to help me?" he asked coldly, unflinching.

Alex felt her mouth open and close nervously before shrugging lamely. "You think you're the only one who hates them? You take them out, my life becomes a lot less complicated."

The vigilante chuckled, his lips turning up into a grin that was anything but kind. "Complicated?"

"Look, you don't need my goddamn sob story", Alex spat, eyes flicking towards the opening to the alley nervously, "What you need is what I know."

He took a step closer, making Alex step back almost involuntarily. Her eyes took him in, all sweat and dried blood, trying to find anything about him that felt human. She could feel his focus on her, cutting through her like he could see her insides. Her stomach twisted at the thought.

"And what do you know?", he asked simply.

"I…", she muttered, "I know products. Dates, times, people. Things that can help you get to the stuff that's actually hurting people."

"How do I know you're not just trying to set me up?"

"You think I'd be that stupid?" she hissed, irrationally offended at the idea, "I've seen what you do to people. Up close. I wouldn't risk you decapitating me with a car door if I wasn't good for it."

So fast it was almost like it didn't happen, Alex noticed the smallest twitch in the masked man's jaw. But it was gone so fast she figured she must have imagined it. Instead, he lowered his head slightly, the shadows falling over the sides of his face. "Alright then. Tell me."

The dark haired girl's eyes flicked back towards the entrance to the alley. "Not here."

"Why not?"

Alex's fingers twitched into a fist, her jaw tightening. "Have all the concussions made you brain dead? You found out where I am just by beating on a small time dealer. They know where I work. Who says they aren't sending someone right now because the dealer you ripped apart blabbed the second you left."

"He's not going to talk. Trust me."

Her body stilled at that, feeling her blood run cold as her eyes flicked over the vigilante's face. "What did you do to him?"

"What do you have?", he demanded, clearly avoiding the question.

"We need somewhere safe." Alex insisted.

The Devil tilted his head to the side, considering what she'd said. Alex noted how still he could be, how easily he blended into the shadows behind him. The costume really put the whole devil idea into perspective, the spitting image of a demon sent from Hell. In comparison, she was rather weak. Her skinny limbs and the ever present dark circles under her eyes made her look like she might snap in half from a light gust of wind. She briefly wondered how pathetic she must look to him, how easily breakable.

"Are you running a deal tomorrow night?" he asked quietly.

Her heart jumped at that question. "Why?"

"Where is it?"

The idea that the Devil of Hell's Kitchen would know exactly where she would be, even if she was the one who'd suggested giving him information, made her stomach churn. Alex couldn't decide if she was more suicidal or stupid in this scenario.

"Behind the old antique store on East Broadway", she responded lowly, her arms instinctively wrapping around herself and her tongue going dry, "Some Wall Street guy. A regular, I guess."

The vigilante nodded, his jaw set. "Then we'll meet there."

Alex slowly nodded, taking another shaky step back, the sound of a shard of glass crunched under her heel. The small sound echoed against the brick walls beside them. It made the whole thing feel bigger, emptier. Something told her he felt the same.

"You're not just finding a dark place to kill me, right?" she sputtered weakly, her voice cracking like a child's. He lowered his head slightly, jaw clenched at what she said.

"I want something", he said lowly, avoiding her question once again, "Something that proves you're not lying to me."

The girl could feel her eyes drop to the concrete below them, unsure of what she could give him without getting herself killed in the process. Whether it was him or the other Wraith's, she had to be careful of what she gave away right now.

"The runner you were asking about", she began, deciding this was the safest course of action, "I wasn't lying when I said I didn't know him. But I know who killed him. Brendon Lynch. Boss's son. Real piece of shit. No one can touch him and he knows it. He likes cutting people up, sending a message. Kid probably started running his mouth to the wrong people. Kind of like I'm doing now."

Taking in what she'd said, the vigilante nodded. She could feel him watching her, making her hold her breath. Slowly, he stepped around her shaking body, looking ready to leave her in the alley. "Then I'll pay him a visit."

As she watched him walk down the alley, Alex felt her breath fall out of her chest. As the sound left her lips, the masked man paused. Her heart almost stopped as he turned his head towards her again. Quicker than she thought possible, he was in front of her again. With a yelp, Alex tried to step backwards but felt her back collide with the wall instead. "This, it doesn't mean I trust you. If you say anything-"

"You'll kill me?", she whispered in a way that she hoped sounded defiant, feeling her shoulders dig into the wall, "Torture me?"

Out of nowhere, the mask's fist slammed into the wall just inches from her face. Alex cried out, any sense of resistance crumbling at the thought of him doing to her what she'd seen him do to others. Her eyes snapped shut, her body pressed so tight against the bricks that she might just become part of the wall. But underneath the fear was something hot, something angry. Something that made her want to rip off his mask and spit in his face.

"So am I just supposed to wait around for you to jump out of some shadow and drag me by the jaw into an alley again?"

Alex slowly and carefully opened her eyes, ready to see the mask threateningly close to her face once again, only to be met with an empty alley. Her breath collapsed out of her chest, her eyes peering down the alley for any sign of the vigilante. Only the shadows were left, and she couldn't be sure he wasn't lurking in them. Jerkily, Alex curled in on herself, trying and failing to keep her breathing under control as the reality of what had happened crashed down around her.

* * *

Unknown to Alex, Matt was still listening a few blocks down, perched on a fire escape that was questionably stable at best. He remained still, listening to the woman not far from him. Her breath was ragged and she seemed to be rocking herself back and forth. The smell of generic shampoo and syrup still wavered around him, clinging to his clothes.

Despite what he'd said, Matt was curious what this girl had. He knew that if she could give him the right information, even just the right name, he could bring down one of the most violent gangs in Hell's Kitchen. Still, something about her unsettled him. She'd been too willing to give away information, too easily swayed away from them. Matt knew she could be setting him up, getting him to some location to ambush him. Logically, he knew he couldn't trust her.

But his gut told him that she was desperate. Her pulse told him the same thing. And desperate meant scared. She knew what she was wrapped up in, and she wanted out one way or another. He could use that.

Matt could hear the girl gasping for breath, teetering on the edge of a panic attack. A pang of guilt ran through him, knowing he'd been the one to put her in that position. He could still hear the way her pulse jumped around, radiating through her body in a wild panic. She muttered curses to herself, berating herself viciously.

After a few minutes, he heard her scramble to her feet- with a fairly painful limp, he noted- grabbing hold of the backpack she must have dropped when he's shown up and running down the street.

Matt stayed still for a few minutes more, listening to her run past the subway stop and towards an apartment building not too far away. Carefully, Matt stepped back towards the ladder behind him. The metal grating of the fire escape groaned under his weight as he skillfully made his way up towards the roof. Making the jump across a few rooftops, he managed to get closer to the apartment the woman- Alex- was currently locking herself into. From what he could tell, she was alone. It must have been her apartment. The faint sounds of her throwing things against the wall and muttering angrily to herself made him frown deeply.

This girl was violent. This girl was desperate. And Matt wasn't about to trust her yet.

* * *

Alex didn't sleep all night. Her eyes felt heavy as she dragged herself through her apartment in intermittent fits of panic. Now, hours later, she was left alone in the dressing room of Courtside, Hell's Kitchen's most sexist sports bar. Staring at her pale, sunken face in the cracked mirror, Alex tugged on the bags under her eyes with the pads of her fingers, staring at her reflection. The edges of her jaw were faintly purple where he'd grabbed her jaw. Her eyes drifted down to the massive bruise on her arm. The entire area had started swelling overnight and, luckily for her, was starting to come down slightly. The bruise was nearly black and uglier than she'd hoped it would be.

Unfortunately for her, she had to work at Courtside that day. And long sleeves were not an option there. She already donned her uniform, a humiliating knockoff cheerleader crop top and miniskirt. The garish blue and red outfit gave her little dignity, with her exposed stomach and the edge of her ass poking out of the skirt making her feel like a piece of meat. Her hair was pulled up so tight it felt like her scalp was going to fall off. Not to mention the black stripes painted under her already made up eyes was suffocating her skin.

Sighing, she roughly reached out for the one bottle of concealer she actually owned. Snatching it up and squinting down at it, she tried to decipher if there were any instruction on the tiny bottle. Makeup was not one of the things she had a budget for at the moment. Most of the facepaint came from the bar and the eyeliner she got at a convenience story on the corner. She vaguely remembered getting it from a party a few years ago. Awkwardly, Alex scooped up some of the pale goo with her fingers and smeared it onto the bruise. As soon as she touched it, she hissed and pulled her fingers back. The mild touch made the whole thing throb with pain. Steeling herself, Alex gently rubbed the makeup over her arm as best she could while holding her breath to keep from groaning in pain.

She spent nearly half an hour working at the bruise, most likely making it worse. But the coverup did most of the trick. Only a dark shadow could be seen beneath the smeared mess of makeup she had managed to apply. At the very least, she'd had something to focus on other than the night before.

The image of Daredevil's fist only inches from her face still made her want to curl up into a corner. It seemed to be his signature move, save for throwing Russian's into dumpsters. She'd seen the people he'd left behind in his wake, and she was well aware of what he might end up doing to her.

 _Buzz_.

Alex nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of her phone. Sucking in a breath, she saw Mandy's name flashing across the screen and took the call.

"Hey", she said with as much normality as she could.

"Hey, what's up?", Mandy's voice responded, "You weren't home this morning. I brought doughnuts."

Alex pressed her head into her free hand, feeling her chest pinch. "Yeah- yeah, uh, sorry about that. I had to get to work early. There's a game today. Gotta prep the fried food and all that."

"Still, you coulda called me before."

"I know, I'm sorry", she reassured her friend, her voice cracking slightly.

"We're still on for Sunday?", Mandy asked, "Reagan's got this new chocolate raspberry cake recipe and she's dying to get your opinion."

"Oh, yeah", Alex responded, only half remembering that promise, "What- uh, what are we celebrating again?"

"Hello, that huge mural I managed to throw up last week", Mandy reminded her, "Took freaking months of planning to get that thing up without any cops catching on."

The dark haired girl's mind flashed to the large graffiti mural that Mandy was referring to, remembering now. "Oh, shit. Yeah, yeah I'll be there."

"Hey…", Mandy drawled, "Are you okay? I mean, you sound weird. Weirder than usual."

She couldn't help but feel her chest pinch even tighter. Alex hated lying to her friend, but there was no way she was going to tell her what happened last night.

"Yo, Moreno!"

Whirling around in her chair, she looked over to see Nina, one of the other waitresses, leaning against the door only a few feet away with her arms crossed over her bare stomach.

"Hey, I've gotta go. Work stuff." Alex didn't wait for a response before shutting down the call. God, she was a terrible liar.

"Boss wants you on the floor", Nina said simply.

Alex felt her face fall. "I was hoping a black hole would appear and swallow this place up before my shift."

"No such luck, girl", Nina chuckled, "This place is still standing and you've got a shift to suffer through."

"Minimal groping?" Alex asked hopefully.

A smirk grew on Nina's painted lips. "Minimal groping. Until the rush, that is."

Pushing the images of masked vigilantes and comatose Russians from her head, Alex pushed herself up from her seat and made her way out to the bar. It was slow, only a few older men scattered around the place ogling the waitresses. Unfortunately, business would pick up in a few hours since there was a game on tonight. Alex didn't bother to learn what game in particular. With a small groan, she grabbed a notepad and made her way onto the floor and towards a table of men. She slapped a big fake smile on her face as they looked up at her with gross smirks on their faces.

"What can I do you for, boys?" she lilted, her voice going up an octave out of habit. Customers tended to like women who sounded airheaded.

The brown haired man in the center of the table leered up at her, clearly posturing. "Oh, I don't know. Some wings, some fries. Maybe a quickie in the back."

Alex forced herself to smile wider in an attempt to keep the sneer off her face. "Afraid only two of those things are on the menu. I'll get the food."

Feeling her face tighten, she quickly turned on her heel and made her way towards the kitchen. She could hear the men leering behind her, several making comments about what they'd like to do to her ass.

It remained like that for hours, just quiet and the smell of cheap cologne floating through the air. Random tips from guys trying to show off shoved in the elastic band of her skirt. Then the game started and the customers poured in. More men grabbed her ass throughout the evening until the shift was finally over. As quickly as she could, Alex made her way into the back once again to try and get changed. Several other waitresses who were just starting their own shifts were milling around in various states of undress.

"You off?" one of the girls asked, lazily painting her face.

"Yup", Alex responded, quickly digging into her backpack for her actual clothes, "You lucky ladies get the shit shift."

The girl shrugged, tossing down the black grease paint she had been holding onto. "Better tips."

"More hands up your skirt", Alex countered, tugging off her crop top and quickly replacing it with an old tshirt. She kept moving like that, replacing her clothes and angrily wiping off the makeup from her face. She scrubbed so hard her cheeks turned red. Tugging her hair out of the skull numbing ponytail, she called out to the other girls in the room. "What time is it?"

"Coming up on nine", another girl called out, pulling up her skirt.

Alex muttered a few curses under her breath. She was due at the pick up in half and hour and it was about a twenty minute walk. She couldn't afford the bus, so she was stuck rushing through the sidewalk. Snatching up her backpack, Alex quickly waved goodbye and ran out of the bar into the night. The humidity outside quickly stuck to her skin as she made her way through the streets towards the pickup spot.

The pickup was always the same: an old garage where a bunch of taxis were shipped off to when they broke down. Apparently Brendon's father owned the business, but Alex had never seen him around. Nor did she ever particularly want to. She didn't want to find out what kind of man could produce someone as fucked up and sadistic as Brendon Lynch.

Making it to her destination, Alex ducked into the garage. Old car parts littered the floor, making the place look more like a graveyard than anything else. Grease was smeared across the concrete floors and stuck to the bottoms of Alex's shoes. The only light produced was from a few fluorescent lights buzzing above their heads. And the only other person there was Brendon.

Alex's eyes widened at the sight of him. Leaning against an old taxi with a cigarette stuck between his lips, his usually smirking face was swollen on one side with a black eye and busted lip. His greasy hair fell in sheets over the side of his face, making it hard to see what other damage had been done.

"Holy shit…"

Brendon finally turned to her, his face far from happy. His lips curled down into a sneer at the sight of her, pulling the cigarette out. Upon closer inspection, she saw a long gash at the edge of his hairline. The first three fingers on his right hand were all bandaged together, clearly broken. Alex's eyes tracked every injury, her mind flashing back to the man she knew was responsible for this.

"Nothing holy about it", Brendon grumbled, the cut in his lip giving him a small lisp, "Guess who the fuck I ran into last night."

"I don't think I need to guess", she muttered, carefully taking a step back. He looked pissed, and pissed was dangerous. Instead of pushing it, Alex quickly changed subjects. "So, you've got the-"

"The coke, yeah", he spat, digging around in his pocket, "You fucking Jews, can't listen to me for two fucking seconds without bringing it back to money."

"Excuse me?", Alex seethed, her cheeks going hot with anger.

Grabbing hold of her wrist, Brendon yanked her hand palm up and slammed several packets filled with coke into her hand. "Shut the fuck up and sell this shit. I've got stuff to do."

Still furious at the anti semitism, Alex ripped her wrist out of his grip. Shoving the handful of packets into her backpack, she slung it back over her shoulder. She kept her jaw tight, biting her tongue as best she could. Brendon, however, did not take his gaze off of her. His eyes were hard as he looked her over.

"Lexi", Brendon lilted, his eyes focused in on her icily, "You met the bastard, right? You know, the mask?"

Alex kept herself as still as possible, terrified even the slightest flinch would give her away. "Yeah. Couple days ago, on the deal at the park. He kicked the crap out of us."

"He say anything?" he demanded, "Anything that might tell you where he'd be?"

"Don't think he's telling random dealers where his devil lair is." she responded simply, keeping her voice as even as she could.

Sneering down at her, Brendon nodded tightly towards the doors behind her. "Useless as usual. Get the fuck out of here. Just sell and bring the money back. Leave the money in the office."

As she clambored back, Alex noticed Brendon's hand pass over the side of his jeans. His fingers wrapped around a gun tucked into his waistband. Alex's eyes widened at the sight of it. She shouldn't be surprised, calling him violent was the understatement of the century. For a brief second, she wondered what state the black clad vigilante must be in. But a gun was not his weapon.

Brendon spotted her staring wide eyed at the gun. Almost immediately, his face twisted into a smirk. He lifted up the edge of his shirt to show off the weapon. "You like it? My old man got it for me, off the books. Figured I'd find the asshole who busted my face and return the favor."

Alex's lips pressed together nervously. "Well, um… good luck with that."

Without bothering to wait for a response, Alex turned on her heel and walked back out to the street as quickly as she could. She made a note to tell the vigilante about the gun, about Brendon. Seemed like something he should know and would keep her on his good side. Her feet seemed to carry her to the drop off without her having to think about it. Her body was on autopilot.

The image of the gun flashed in her head again. What would Brendon do to her if he knew what she'd done? What she was trying to do. He definitely wouldn't use a gun. No, no he'd take his time with it. Like he did to that runner Daredevil had asked her about. She'd be left in some dumpster, if she was lucky, body parts missing and throat slit.

Alex felt her heart rate pick up slightly, her body sweating in the dark heat. Breathing deeply, she quickly swiped stray hairs from her sweaty forehead and made her way behind the antique store. The smell of mildew and old clothes spilled out from the windows that had stupidly been left open by some tired worker. Eyes flicking to the entrance to the alley, Alex swiftly shut the windowed and hoped others would think they were locked. Sighing, she leaned against the exposed brick wall behind her, waiting impatiently for the buyer.

She, luckily, didn't have to wait long. The buyer- a man in a suit that looked like it cost more than her rent for the entire year- came sauntering into the alley. One look at him and Alex could tell he did steroids too, most likely to impress secretaries who he falsely thought he was hot shit. He had that arrogant air rolling off him. His eyes raked over her, lips quirking back disappointedly.

"Not my usual." he noted, pulling at his cuffs.

Alex shrugged, keeping herself as neutral as possible. It was the only way to stay above it all. "She was busy."

"Can't say this is an improvement", he huffed, looking over her pale, bruised face and crooked nose with distaste, "You have what I came here for?"

"No", she responded, sarcasm lacing her words, "I came here with nothing for the pleasure of your company."

The man straightened up, eyes narrowing. "You don't have to be a bitch about this."

Alex could feel several retorts on her lips, ready and waiting. But she needed this deal over. Involuntarily, her eyes flicked over to the darkened corner beside her. Biting back whatever she was going to say, Alex purposefully rolled her eyes and dug a handful of the packets out of the side pocket of her backpack. Flashing them in front of Wall Street, she held her other hand out expectantly.

Without any other prodding, he calmly dug a thick wad of cash and slapped it in her hand. "I assume you have the rest, too."

Nodding, she dumped the fistful she had into Wall Street's hand and dug out two more from her stash. The man stuffed it all in his pockets, clearly not afraid to be caught with it.

"You can go now." Alex stated.

The man smirked, unphased. "Pleasure."

Calmly, the man turned around and sauntered out of the alley. Watching as he disappeared around the corner, Alex's eyes fell again on the dark corners. She strained her eyes, trying to see his outline somewhere, anywhere. Remembering him appearing out of nowhere, Alex noted the large dumpster tucked away in the corner.

Slowly, she approached the dumpster, trying to see if there were any shadows behind it. Would he hide behind a receptacle full of garbage? It wouldn't really surprise her. She could feel her stomach flip around as she opened her mouth, ready to call out to him.

"Your information was good."

The scream that left her lips was short lived. Alex swung around, hands going straight to her mouth to muffle the sound. He was only a few feet away, standing as if he'd just materialized there. On instinct, Alex's eyes searched the area for where he could have been hiding, eyes flicking up to see the low roof above them.

"Did-" she stuttered, hands falling down only an inch to allow herself to talk, "Did you jump down from the roof?"

The vigilante stood still, as if he hadn't heard or didn't care about the question. "Your information. It was good."

"Uh- I mean…", she muttered, "Yeah. What did you expect?"

Silence.

"Okay, maybe don't answer that."

His jaw tightened slightly, his head tilting down in a way that made the shadows cut into the sides of his face. "I found the man you told me about."

"Yeah, I noticed" she mumbled, "You know you pissed him off way more than is smart, right?"

He shrugged, unconcerned. "You were telling the truth."

"Does that mean you trust me?"

Silence. Again.

He hadn't moved once since he seemed to appear out of nowhere. Alex's eyes flicked over him, trying to see if he had any weapons. Not that he needed any, from what she'd seen. She noticed a pair of wooden batons tucked into the side of his black pants, making her furrow her brows. What kind of weapons were two sticks? She also noted that nearly every inch of skin, save for neck and jaw, were covered by black fabric. Smart. No one could see if he was hurt, making him a little more intimidating.

"He's an asshole."

Alex's eyes widened. She definitely hadn't been expecting him to make anything close to a joke, if you could classify that as anything close to humorous. Well, it was the closest she'd ever heard from him.

"Uh, yeah", she responded, "Yeah, he's a serious creep. First day I met him, he told me he'd keep an eye on me because he didn't trust a Jew with money."

The vigilante's lips curled back in distaste. Okay, good. He wasn't anti semitic at least.

"Whatever you were trying to do", she continued, finding the slightest confidence, "You just managed to piss him off. Brendon's putting together some people to track you down."

Alex noted that his lips seemed to quirk up a little. He must have some sort of death wish if the idea of a group of sadistic criminals were out for his blood. The idea of it made her take a small step back, which didn't go unnoticed.

"He's not the boss." It wasn't a question.

Alex nodded slowly, unsure quite what he needed out of her. "No. No, uh- he's the boss's son. I told you that."

"Then who's the boss?" he insisted quietly.

"I'm not sure" she admitted, feeling her voice weaken, "He- uh, no one really talks about him. At least, not past what he does to clean up after Brendon. It's a whole cloak and dagger sort of situation. I don't even know his first name."

She watched as the vigilante's lips pulled back, displeased. She felt her eyes flick down involuntarily to his gloved fists, waiting for whatever would come from the displeasure. She wasn't sure what that meant with him, what he would do when she didn't give him what he wanted. There wasn't exactly a manual for bartering information with violent vigilantes.

"I'll deal with him later", he stated simply, still not moving, "What I need are times. Places."

Alex shrugged, feeling her body tense up. "Times for what, exactly?"

His face didn't move as he stared her down. Not being able to see his eyes made it even more unsettling.

"Strong and silent type. Got it. Won't ask questions." Alex swiped at her hair, once again sticking to her sweaty forehead in the New York heat. "I know there's gonna be a big shipment of guns in two days. Not sure what kind, or if it matters."

"Where are they coming in?", he asked simply.

"Huge shipment yard a few streets down from here. It's happening around one in the morning."

"Who can I expect there?"

Alex pursed her lips. "Not Brendon for sure. He's a little too focused on you. Probably no more than five buyers will be there."

He nodded his head a fraction, seeming to accept the information given to him. "I'll deal with it. See what else you can find."

"Are…", Alex muttered, unsure of how to ask any questions, "Are we just meeting like this? Behind dumpsters and after deals?"

His head tilted to the side a fraction of an inch, like he was regarding her. "I'll find you when I need you."

Because that wasn't creepy at all.

Instead of arguing, Alex kept her mouth shut. She watched as the masked man retreated back towards the dumpster, jumping on top of it and grabbing hold of a fire escape Alex had barely registered was there. It was all too surreal. He bled into the shadows as he rose, making her realize that she was alone again. Though Alex couldn't shake the feeling that he still knew what she was doing. Hell, she wouldn't be surprised if he knew her every movement.

Something told her he already was.

* * *

 **A/N: Yay! I updated!**

 **IAmTheRedMaskHeWears: So happy you like this story!**

 **Anna: I will definitely keep writing, darling.**

 **hunterofmiracles: Thank you so much!**

 **Donny Donowitz: You are so amazing and I love reading your reviews!**


	4. Scared People Are Hard To Read

Alex held her pen over her notebook, feeling her fingers shake as she wrote down her latest deal. The last traces of afternoon light spilled through her cracked window, cutting through her apartment like a knife. No soft glow for her. She'd been cut from her shift, leaving Alex with little to do but this. Her careful handwriting detailed the last week of deals and snippets of what she'd heard from other dealers and Brendon running his mouth.

Running her hands over her face, she felt her insides sag with exhaustion. And maybe a little hunger. Being cut meant her manager was still around, meaning she couldn't sneak food out of the kitchen.

Sluggishly, she finished the last few details when her mind wandered towards the masked man she'd last seen a few nights ago. His low voice, his tight jaw, the way he seemed to be able to guess what she was about to say or do. The memory made her fingers shake slightly. It would be so easy. The same as writing down what the Wraiths were doing. Just a few details written on a page that would most likely never see the light of day. And yet the idea of leaving proof of who she'd decided to align herself with made Alex nervous. Anyone could see it. Police, lawyers, Wraiths, even the devil himself. If he caught wind of her keeping tabs on him, even if it was just a few details she'd decided to jot down, she didn't want to think of what would happen to her.

Cursing, she cracked her knuckles to try and get the tremor to stop. Feeling the pop of her joints, she moved her pen back over the notebook. It hovered over the page, seemingly stuck just a centimeter above the paper. Her fingers gripped the pen so tight her skin turned white.

Out of nowhere, her phone began to buzz. Fingers frozen over the page, Alex groggily snatched up the phone only to see it was Mandy calling again.

Guilt flushed through her as Alex rejected the call. She hated lying to her friend, and she had already done it too much for her liking. Mandy could always see through her bullshit, and Alex had to keep everything she was in under wraps. At least until she knew she could claim she was marginally safe. But for now, she wasn't. And neither was her friend if she screws up.

With a grunt, she threw the pen down, running her hands over her face before laying her

head down on the table. Her skull pounded and her eyes sagged down, closing her off to the night for a few precious hours before she had to go to the party. Before she had to see the Devil again.

* * *

 _Foggy. Foggy. Foggy._

Matt lay in bed, listening to the monotone voice of his phone grate against his ear. He felt like the inside of his head was about to burst open. Blood still lay half dried on his back and shoulders. A few of the Wraiths had gotten some good hits in, nearly fracturing his ribs and elbow. Achingly, he reached out and answered, letting his arm drop as soon as he pressed the button.

"Yeah?" he grumbled, running a hand over his face.

"Well, don't you sound chipper today?" Foggy responded cheerily, "Big night tonight? Or, last night by now."

Matt's mind wandered to the bruise that was still swollen on his tailbone from being hit with the butt of an AK-47. His hips ached from it, whole body screaming at him not to move another inch. "You could say that."

"Well, I'll see it for myself. I'm a block down."

"Foggy-"

"No arguments, Murdock," his friend interrupted him, voice surprisingly strong for this hour of the night, "I brought bagels. I even sprung for that place you said uses scentless dish soap. It's disturbing that you know that."

Matt tried to lift his head, but his neck popped in three different places as he did. "Aren't you supposed to be asleep?"

"Nope," Foggy responded begrudgingly, "Just sent Karen home, actually. We've been working on the Velasquez case for the better part of eternity. Now shake it off, I'm almost there."

On that note, Foggy hung up. Hearing the line go dead, Matt sunk deeper into his bed. His whole back ached, like it was somehow still taking a beating. He briefly wondered if that feeling would ever go away. Slowly and with a groan, Matt turned onto his side and slid his feet to the floor. The cold sunk into his bare feet, a sharp contrast to the heat under his swollen skin. His knees popped as he forced himself to stand. Carefully, he made his way out into the living room and made his way to the kitchen. The sounds of the city beat against his skull as he lazily made a pot of coffee. He noted that the woman down the street was listening to the same Tina Turner album for the fifth time in the last four days. He wondered if it was morally wrong to sneak in one night just to break that CD in half.

The knock at the door felt like a nail to the skull. Foggy had no reason to knock, he knew that Matt could hear him anyway. And he had a key to begin with. Matt figured it must be some sort of half baked way to annoy him. Sighing, he set down the mugs he'd been holding and leaned against the counter as the sounds of Foggy's footsteps inched closer. There was a slight skip in his heartbeat. Matt briefly remembered that he was only in his underwear, the gallery of injuries on full display.

"Well, you look like shit."

That actually managed to make Matt's lips quirk up slightly. Reaching over, he grabbed the hoodie hanging off the side of his couch. He quickly threw it on before making his way to the ktichen.

"Really?" Matt quipped, already pouring two mugs of coffee, "Couldn't tell."

His friend chuckled sarcastically, dropping a bag of bagels onto the counter. "Ah yes, self deprecating blind jokes. Those never get old."

Matt shrugged, unable to help the little smile forming on his face. "I find them funny."

"Whatever you say, man", Foggy shrugged, pulling out a fistful of food from the greasy bag, "Got your usual. Whole wheat with a schmear. Absurdly boring, if you ask me."

"You think everything I eat is boring", he shot back, grabbing hold of the aforementioned bagel, "Thank you."

"Well, even vigilantes have to eat. Guess the whole wheat gives you abs or something." Foggy spoke through a mouth full of ham and cheese toasted bagel, filling the air with a heavy salt smell. He could feel his friend's eyes on him, taking in the bruises the way he always did. "Speaking of which, where did this latest ass kicking come from? Or do I wanna know?"

Matt sighed, not having the energy to tell Foggy he could take care of himself. "Gun runners. Generally not the nicest bunch."

"What a shock", he deadpanned, wiping his hands on a little napkin he must have pulled from the bag, "You, uh- you get that info from your… friend?"

Matt's hand stilled for a second over the bag of bagels. "Yeah."

"And she didn't seem all, you know, double cross-y?" Foggy continued to ask, trying and failing to sound like he wasn't prying.

Matt shrugged slightly, digging his plain bagel out of the bag. "If she was, I'd know."

"Not sure about that, buddy" his friend pointed out, taking another bite out of his food, "Women are your kryptonite."

Matt felt his face drop, the bruise on his jaw thrumming under his skin. "She hasn't lied to me so far."

"And you count that as trust?"

"No," he groaned, dropping his food onto the countertop with a sigh, "I don't trust her, but I need her. I'm seeing her later this morning."

"Why?" the other man prodded, leaning forward earnestly, "Seriously, you seemed to be doing okay without a random drug dealer feeding you information that may or not be true."

"I need an in with these people" Matt insisted, wanting nothing more than to drop the subject, "Whoever's running this is smart, they don't leave evidence. She has at least something I can work with."

"And how do you know she's not involved in all that crazy super secret gang stuff?" Foggy pointed out urgently, "What if she's setting you up?"

If he was being honest, that question had been running through Matt's head since he'd met her. She was secretive, angry and hard to read. She reeked of cocaine and sugar, a strange combination. Half the time she spoke she was Her pulse would jump whenever he got near her, so he couldn't tell if she was lying or simply afraid. It all set him on edge, but he couldn't deny one simple fact.

"She seemed scared."

Apparently, that wasn't enough for Foggy. His friend ran his fingers through his hair, a groan heavy in his chest as he tried to process everything.

"Yeah, she was being interrogated by a psycho in a black mask" Foggy grumbled, waving a hand around jauntily, "Not that I'm calling you psycho, but she probably felt that way given the circumstances."

"She wasn't scared of me", Matt shot back, "Not completely. It was more like she was scared of the people she worked for."

"Fear isn't evidence of moral fortitude, my friend" the other man shot back, "Plenty of terrible people are scared of shit."

"I don't know, Foggy" he tried to concede, dropping his hands to the counter, "It's just a feeling. A hunch or…. I don't know. She's afraid of what them, what they'll do to her if she's found out. Clearly she's willing to take the risk."

His friend nodded, swallowing the bite of food he had in his mouth and considering what he'd said. "Well, didn't she say they had something on her? I'm assuming it's nothing good."

"Probably not", he conceded, running a hand through his hair.

"Has she at least given you anything on the Velasquez case?" Foggy half pleaded, shoving another bite of bagel into his mouth.

"Yes", Matt responded, inching closer to annoyance than he'd like to admit, "She knows who killed him. A man named Brendon Lynch."

His friend hummed with interest. "You… do your thing to him yet?"

He shrugged. "Not nearly as much as he deserved. We got interrupted."

Foggy's jaw stilled, trying to figure out some combination of words to respond to what he'd just heard. "Well, don't mess him up too much. Maybe we can get him on the stand. Someday."

With that hanging in the air, the two lapsed into silence for a few moments, leaving Matt with only the sounds of chewing and a couple arguing in the building across the street. Soon enough they just turned to their latest case, figuring out how they could possibly use the name Brendon Lynch without a credible witness.

Matt knew that Foggy didn't trust Alex. He hadn't even told his friend her name. He didn't want Foggy to get in too deep in case it all went sideways. All he could do for now was get as much information out of her as possible before she changed her mind and ran out of town. She'd probably be smarter if she did.

* * *

"What's up, sweetheart?"

Reagan quickly and ferociously pulled Alex into a bear hug, nearly spilling her vodka cranberry all over the back of her dress in the process. It was almost remarkable that she could reach up far enough to wrap her arms around Alex's shoulders. Her friend's studio apartment was alive with resident Hell's Kitchen artists and taggers, all of whom seemed to be dressed far better than any of their budgets should allow. Alex herself was clad in a dress that felt at least a size too small because it was the only one she had with long sleeves. The whole place was vibrating with harsh music and drinks were being passed around like candy. Reagan was hard to miss in her pastel pink biker jacket and shiny gold shoes. Not to mention the ever present smile on her round face that lit up a room.

"Charming as always", Alex groaned, feeling the bruise on her arm throb under the pressure her friend was putting on her, "Jeez, I squeezed myself into this dress and you knock out whatever breath I have left?"

"No one said you had to dress up", Reagan giggled, releasing her from the hug, "Though it certainly makes you look fantastic. And may I say your ass is looking great."

"What ass?" came a voice behind them. Alex turned around to see Mandy smirking down at both of them. Her curly hair was pulled into a loose braid and her black boots added a solid three inches to her already impressive height.

"What's up, my bitch?", Alex piped, stretching a smile as wide as she could on her face. She already felt the thrum of guilt in her chest. God, she hated lying to Mandy.

"Not much, just keeping the hipsters at bay" she shrugged, settling back on her heels and giving Alex a strange look, "Wasn't sure if you'd make it."

Alex felt her brows furrow. "Of course I made it. Why wouldn't I?"

"Well" she grumbled, lips pursed, "Considering the lack of communication and your weirdness on the phone, I thought you might skip out on the party too."

"Do you guys want some deconstructed spring rolls?" Reagan overenthusiastically offered, somehow procuring a plate of her creation out of thin air, "They're vegan. I know you're not, but most of the people here are… saying they are, but I saw them eat pork earlier."

"All hipsters are douchebags, honey", Mandy quickly reassured her, eyes flicking over to a group hanging around in the back, "And speaking of, you should probably keep tabs on Krysta's crew over there. Pretty sure they're about to devour your seared pork."

Reagan's eyes went wide, already muttering random curses under her breath and stomping over to the group of fake vegans. Without the shorter woman there, Alex could feel Mandy's glare right on her with no buffer. She'd never liked being on the receiving end of her aggravation.

"Man, I feel some tension in the room", Alex tried to joke, waving her arms in an exaggerated manner.

Her friend was definitely not impressed. "You've been avoiding me."

"No I haven't." Alex waved her off, trying and most likely failing to act casual, "I've been taking a bunch of shifts at Courtside. There's some huge business conference in town and a bunch of creeps in fancy suits tend to give big tips."

It wasn't a complete lie. She had been taking on more shifts- she even had the tips to prove it. But the part that was a lie made her feel all ugly and twisted on the inside. Alex never felt good after lying to Mandy. Years of an honesty only policy made it feel wrong.

However, Mandy's face changed slightly at the mention of her other job. "Anybody try to get in your pants?"

Alex shrugged. "A few guys slipped a finger or two past the elastic band of my miniskirt. But nothing too far out of the ordinary realm of perversion."

Mandy always had a nose for bullshit, and she was definitely catching onto something. But they were at a party, in the middle of a crowd of people she worked with. She wasn't about to chew Alex out. Plus, Alex knew that mentioning her humiliating job would score her some sympathy points. Her friend's lips pressed together, head nodding up and down the way it always did when she put an argument on pause.

"Well", she grumbled, "I've got disinfectant on hand if you need any. Just open your fucking mouth and talk to me about this crap, okay?"

The woman punctuated her sentence with a punch to Alex's arm. Right on the bruise a certain vigilante left. A shriek flew out of her lips before Alex could stop it, hand flying up to the injured area. She felt it throbbing under her hand like a damn drum.

Mandy's eyes widened, hands flying up like Alex had burned her. "What the fuck was that?"

"Uh- nothing!" Alex quickly tried to cover up, dropping her hand and straightening up, "Some customer grabbed me too hard at the diner."

"That's a stupid ass lie", the other woman accused, snatching up Alex's wrist and tugging her closer, "Show me."

The dark haired woman tried to shake her friend off. "Wha- no! No, it's fine-"

"Show me!"

Instead of waiting for an answer, Mandy grabbed hold of Alex's arm in a vice grip and pulled her through the crowds across the room. Alex tried to pull her arm out, thrashed around a bit but she was also aware of people watching and didn't want to draw any attention. At least not any more than she already had. Mandy brought them to a harsh stop in the corner of the room and immediately pushed up her friend's sleeve, revealing the dark purple bruise that covered a solid half of Alex's bicep.

Mandy's eyes widened, fingers immediately loosening their grip. "What the hell happened?"

"I- uh, I…" the shorter woman struggled to find the right words, the right combination to explain this all away. Her arm lay stiff in her friends hands, unsure of what she should do. "It was… my other job. Bad deal, got- it got violent."

"What?!"

"Not for too long!" Alex assured her quickly, lodging herself deeper into the lie, "He was already high and-"

"Was it Tommy?" her friend interrupted, still staring at the injury with some combination of fear and disgust.

"Uh… yeah," she responded, trying to sound convincing, "Yeah, he was acting weirder that night. Figured he was on some stepped on shit before he came to the drop."

"Jesus", Mandy huffed, ghosting her fingers gently over the bruise, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want you to worry. Or get involved."

At least that was the truth.

Slowly, Mandy rolled Alex's sleeve back down. She kept her gentle hold on her friend, dark eyes lifting up to the dark haired woman's earnestly. "It's my job to worry about you."

Alex's head dropped. "It shouldn't have to be."

"Well, it is," the taller woman insisted, "I've been worrying about you since we were eleven. I'm not stopping now."

The whole encounter made Alex feel even worse. Her stomach felt twisted and her feet shuffled underneath her, almost like her body was saying she was an asshole for keeping this up. She felt a few locks of hair fall in her face. Every part of her wanted to say something, open her stupid mouth and tell the truth. But what would happen if she did?

As it turned out, she didn't need to find out. Reagan- Alex's new personal savior- came rushing up to the pair with her phone in her hand. Her shoes squeaked underneath her as she came to a stop beside her girlfriend.

"Have you seen this?" she questioned, eyes open wide and phone stuck up to Mandy's face.

"What are you…" Alex's friend tried to bat the phone away from her face, but came to a stop when she noticed the headline. Alex watched her face, trying to deduce what was happening. Mandy's eyes squinted down at the little screen, a hand coming up to push the phone closer to her face. "Holy shit."

Alex's brows pulled together. "What is it?"

Instead of answering, her friend passed her the phone. The headline blazing across the phone sent a sick feeling down into the pit of her stomach.

 _Gun Shipment In Hell's Kitchen_

 _Leaves 2 In Comas_

Alex's eyes widened at the headline, her body going rigid. "Uh, can you give me that?"

Reagan, not noticing Alex's uneasiness, passed the phone to the taller girl. She snatched it up and immediately started reading it over. The information was vague, giving little details about what had happened. But front and center was the clear fact that Daredevil had been there, and he'd been the one to dole out whatever bloody justice he'd deemed fair. It seemed the person writing the article wasn't a fan, using words like "menace" and "horror" more than was probably needed.

But at the end of the article, a series of photos made Alex's insides knot up. The two runners who'd been put in comas were… gruesome. The first one showed a man- tattooed and heavily muscled- with a swollen face, split skin and broken ribs. But it was the other photo that hit her hard. The other runner was just a boy- maybe 21, if she remembered correctly. She'd only seen him at a few drops, and he was always sweet. He'd called her ma'am and shook her hand when they'd met. Alex vaguely remembered he'd been a college student and planned on going back for his degree, but his grandmother needed money for medical bills.

His face was bashed in, the cheekbone protruding out of the skin. His nose was crooked beyond much repair, sunken in and jagged. His right arm was set up in a sling, needles sticking under his skin and keeping him in somewhat careful alignment. The left knee was ruined, crushed and so bruised it was nearly black under heavy flourescent lights. It was split in so many places it almost looked spongey to touch. It would be a wonder if he ever walked again. If he ever woke up.

Alex had never asked how his grandmother had been doing. She'd never even asked what she was sick with.

Bile rose in her throat, her stomach lurching as she quickly shoved the phone back into Reagan's hands.

"I've- I gotta go," she croaked out, her feet shaking beneath her, "Great party."

"Are you okay?" Mandy asked worriedly, reaching out for Alex carefully.

"Fine!" Alex covered quickly, trying to spread a smile over her face, "Just- I've got the early shift tomorrow at the diner. I mean- you know that. You've got the same shift. Early- I'll just get to bed early."

"But the shift is only in two hours-"

"I'll see you tomorrow!"

Before Mandy or anyone else could try and ask what was wrong, Alex made her way out of the apartment. The hallways were mercifully empty as she shakily ran towards the stairs. All she could think about as she made her way down was that boy. She couldn't even remember his name, but the way he looked lying on that hospital bed made her want to throw up. Her breathing was shallow, her chest constricting. The world felt fuzzy and Alex's head felt like it was full of cotton. She couldn't even remember walking out of the building.

Trying and failing to breathe normally, Alex could feel her chest burn as she leaned against the corner of the building. The thick air felt like it was suffocating her.

She should have known. The whole city knew what Daredevil was, who he hurt. How he hurt them. How could she have been so stupid? She wasn't useful. She held no real value to him, so what was stopping him from waiting at their meet up spot behind the diner, ready to bust her kneecaps and paint the cement with her blood.

He did that. The Devil of Hell's Kitchen did that to a boy whose name she'd never learn. A boy who got in to save his family. What did he care about who he hurt? They were drug dealers, gun runners. They were the filth that polluted his precious city. No one would miss them. And Alex was just the same. How long until he decided to rid the city of her, too?

She wasn't about to find out.


	5. Trust Issues

The hospital in Hell's Kitchen was probably the most depressing looking thing in the world. But that didn't stop Alex from staring up at it.

The early morning light spread over it, coating the ugly blue walls with a dusty orange light. A few nurses were smoking a few dozen feet away, bitching about whatever elderly person they'd had to change a bedpan for. All of it, the smells and the sounds, they made Alex's ears ring and her head swim. She didn't have the ability to go inside. Or maybe she didn't have the guts. But she knew there was a boy inside fighting for his life in a hospital bed, put there by an evidently unhinged ninja who decided to fight the viciously violent gangsters who, for over a year, had been controlling Alex's life.

Needless to say, there were no good options.

But that boy… he was the only thing that felt real. He wasn't a concept, an idea. A vague hope that a man in black could bring down the Wraiths and fix her life. He was real, and he was dying. Or something close enough to it.

Alex's eyes darted over the dirty walls, the graffiti coated plaster that kept everything inside. She felt like her intestines were trying to strangle each other. Tightly wound and painfully sharp, they might just make her lose what little food she had in her system. She couldn't survive this. The lying, the spying. The contact with a man who literally called himself the Devil. What did she think would happen? He'd listen to her easily, gather information from her like a detective from a femme fatale in an old movie. That he'd trust her, let her go.

But what would happen to her if she told Brendon? Would he thank her? Could she spin it in a way that made her seem like a double agent? More likely, he would take out a blade and gut her like a fish. Her insides would smear over the dirty concrete. And if he didn't, Alex would be dragged deeper into this world. She'd never get out.

The Wraiths would kill her. The Devil would break her. So who the hell was she supposed to trust?

* * *

Only a few streets away, Matt Murdock was panicking. His heart thrummed against his ribcage, caught somewhere between anger and fear.

Alex hadn't shown up.

He stood alone, deep in an alley that reeked of burnt meth and blood. The stench only fed his paranoia. What had happened? Why wasn't she here.

His first thought was that she'd sold him out, told her bosses where he'd be and what to do. It only made sense. Why would she want to help him when she could save her own skin. He'd quickly climbed up a fire escape, sinking into the shadows to wait. But no footsteps came. Just the sounds of glass breaking and drunken laughter a street or two down.

Another thought clawed its way into his head, uninvited and distinctly horrible. What if she'd been caught?

Matt knew what the Wraiths did to people who talked. People who strayed. He didn't want to find bits of her in a dumpster, put her together piece by piece so someone could identify her. Would anyone know who she was? Maybe she'd have died a Jane Do, burnt to ash in some crematorium without a name.

Briefly, a small thought entered his head. If she'd been caught, they couldn't trace it back to him. To Matt Murdock and Foggy and Karen. The thought made him sick to his stomach, but it was the truth.

Silently, he climbed up the fire escape, moving towards the roof. The sounds of the city became louder, reverberating off windows and buildings as he climbed higher. He could feel it, smell it. He'd become something akin to numb to it all, no longer clutching his ears in pain like he had when he was a kid. But he could still hear it all, every voice, every noise as he hoisted himself up onto the roof. His boots moved quietly against the concrete below his feet, head tilting slightly as he listened hard for the dealer's voice.

He stood like that for a few minutes, sifting through voices and discarding areas when he'd caught onto something. It wasn't concrete, or even firmly identifiable. But it was her breath, shuddering and deep. He could hear the pitches of it, the wait it shuddered in her chest. It had sounded the same back in the alleyway behind the diner. He knew it was her.

So, she was alive. But why was she hiding?

/

"Motherfucker!"

Alex ran over to the sink in the kitchen, hands shaking as she tried to run the cold water. She'd overfilled a cup of coffee, the boiling hot drink spilling over and burning her hand. Finally, the faucet squeaked to life and ugly looking water spilled over the red skin.

"Jesus, Moreno," Mandy snickered, eyeing her friend from the other side of the kitchen with a plate full of overcooked eggs balanced in her hands, "Get your shit together. The breakfast rush is coming."

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Alex bit back, keeping her hand under the cold spray, "Guess I can't seem to catch a break."

"You broke that mug," her friend pointed out.

"Fuck off."

"Okay, no need to bitch," the taller woman relented, leaning back against the wall, "What's got you so jumpy?"

Oh, nothing. Just the fact that she may have just pissed off not only some of the most violent mobsters in Hell's Kitchen, but also an unstable vigilante with a history of putting drug dealers in comas. Someone who might find her and figure out that she was thinking of turning on him. No big deal.

"Just tired," Alex lied, shaking off the water and inspecting her hand. It wasn't strictly a lie. She hadn't slept all night. "Lady outside is a total bitch, and her Long Island accent is giving me a headache. Plus I've got a double shift today."

Mandy eyed her warily. Yup, she could definitely tell something was off. "You've only got the breakfast shift here."

"Courtside," the dark haired woman clarified, keeping her eyes away from Mandy, "There's some big baseball game tonight. Big tips, bigger assholes."

Mandy nodded, grabbing onto another plate that was laden with a sugary waffle coated in whipped cream. She looked over at Alex again, eyes flicking down to her hand. The dark haired woman looked down as well, seeing a blister forming between her thumb and first finger. The skin had turned an angry red around it.

"You've got someone in your section," Mandy pointed out, piling on a fresh pot of coffee to her tray, "Take care of them, I'll take the coffee to the Long Island bitch."

Alex felt her shoulders relax a little, her lips pressed together in a half-smile. "You're my hero."

"Remember that next time I need a shift covered," her friend smirked, sending a wink over her shoulder before bumping open the kitchen door with her hip and disappearing into the dirty diner.

Alex leaned back against the wall, pressing her burnt hand into her chest. She breathed in and out, keeping her heart rate steady in her already jam packed ribcage. Her head was all over the place, scrambled and anxious and unable to keep track of anything. Swiping strands of hair out of her face, the tall woman steeled herself and made her way outside the kitchen with her carefully constructed waitress face on.

Her old sneakers squeaked against the linoleum floor as she walked over to the little booth in the corner. Luckily, it was only occupied by one man, and he looked friendly enough. His shaggy blonde hair and pudgy frame were all tied together by a sweet looking face, which was currently buried in what looked like very important paperwork. Carefully, Alex tugged a loose strand of hair back into her ponytail and waved at the man, catching his attention.

"Hey," she said carefully, making sure she didn't let on how tired and out of it she was, "Can I get you anything?"

The man looked up, sending her a quick smile that looked just as tired as hers. "I'd love it if you could make my case disappear, but I'll settle for some pancakes."

Alex nodded, eyeing the paperwork on the table that definitely hadn't been wiped down recently. "Rough morning?"

"No rougher than yours, by the looks of it," he replied kindly, looking around the busy diner.

Noticing something familiar, Alex looked over the man a little more carefully. "Would I know you from somewhere?"

"Other than my stunningly handsome face, not sure," the man joked, pushing his papers around a bit, "Unless you watch an unhealthy amount of trials on TV."

That's when it clicked. She didn't recognize him without the distinctly blind partner he was always seen with in court, but she should've noticed immediately. Her eyes widened a bit and her lips quirked up.

"You're Franklin Nelson," she gaped, pointing at him with her pen.

He looked a little taken aback, like he hadn't expected her to actually know who he was. "Uh, yeah. People usually call me Foggy."

"You're one of the guys who went against Fisk," Alex continued, feeling her anxiety back away for a moment, "Yeah, I went to all the trials- well, all the ones I could get my shift covered for."

"Wow," the man- Foggy- gaped up at her, looking impressed, "Didn't take you for a crime junkie."

"People don't take waitresses for anything."

"Point made."

Alex started to feel an actual smile creep up on her face. But, of course, nothing that relaxing could stick around. Not with her luck.

"Hey! You!" a nasally voice rang out, followed by the snapping of fingers, "Flat ass, over here!"

Immediately, she felt her face drop at the thick Long Island accent of the woman sneering over at her. The woman's bottle blonde hair and heavy eye liner were offset only by her claw-like nails. She was giving Alex a look that meant she wasn't getting a tip. She shook her plate in the air, flecks of egg falling over the table.

"If you're not going to bring me coffee," she snapped, dropping the plate back on the table, "Then you'd better bring me my apple pie on time."

Alex stretched her face into a very careful smile, keeping the hot anger deep inside her chest. "Right away, ma'am."

The woman snorted, turning back to her much older boyfriend. The waitress sighed, scratching at the back of her neck and turning back to Foggy. "Sorry about that."

"Don't be," he said, eyeing the woman distastefully, "She's a dick."

A short snort escaped Alex's lips. Her eyes fell on the menu Foggy had set aside. He'd asked for pancakes.

"Order a tea."

The other man's brows pulled together, confused. "What?"

"I said order a tea," Alex repeated with a sly smile, "Trust me."

"Okay…" Foggy shrugged, "Tea it is."

"Coming right up."

With that, she turned on her heel and made her way to the kitchen. The heavy scent of cheese, eggs and salt coated her nostrils as she marched towards the back where the fridges were kept. Mandy was leaning against the wall, a foot in one hand in an attempt to alleviate some of the soreness in her heels. She saw Alex marching over, her own face looking surprised at her friends newfound energy.

"Who pissed you off?"

Alex smirked at her friend, going over to the little monitor where they punched in orders and putting in an order for tea. "We're giving Long Island a Caramel Special."

A slow smile spread over Mandy's round face. "Oh, fuck yeah."

Mandy reached over to the fridges, pulling out a cold slice of pie and sticking it in the microwave. Alex rapped her fist against the counter where the cooks were busy. "Hey, boys. I need pancakes, an apple fritter and bacon."

"You got it," one of the cooks, Jose, saluted her and got to work.

The microwave dinged, and Alex turned around to see Mandy standing there with a tub of ice cream and bottle of caramel sauce with a great big smile on her face. The same smile she always had when she tagged teachers cars back in high school. Alex matched her expression, pulling the pie out of the microwave and setting it on the counter.

Mandy plopped a large scoop of vanilla on the hot dessert, smirking over at her friend. "I believe you have the honors."

"Thank you, madame," Alex responded dramatically, turning gallantly towards the pastry.

She gave a deep snort, feeling phlegm build up in the back of her throat. A nice big wad. Then, quickly, she spit it all over the ice cream. She saw it slide down the vanilla, looking like caramel.

"Nice one," Mandy praised, covering the yellow guck with a thick serving of actual caramel, "That should win some sort of award."

"It's an honor just to be nominated."

Without any other preamble, Alex grabbed onto the pie, piling it onto a tray with a serving of pancakes bacon and pastries before making her way back outside. She made a beeline for Long Island's table, a great big fake smile on her face.

"So sorry about the wait," she simpered at the woman, setting the pie down right in front of her, "Got this ready just for you."

"Finally, some decent service," the woman groaned nasally, waving her clawed hands around, "You're not getting a tip, you know."

"Oh, I don't mind," Alex smiled, watching with glee as the woman started stuffing her face with the dessert. Honestly, it was better than a tip.

Having gotten her little revenge, she made her way back over to the lawyer sitting in the booth not too far away. She waved at him, watching his eyes widen at the array of food on her tray as she set it all down in front of him.

"Oh," he stuttered, "I- I thought you said get tea."

"What are you talking about?" she questioned nonchalantly, "You've only got tea on your bill. No clue how the rest of this ended up here."

Foggy's eyes went wide for a moment, followed quickly by an almost childishly gleeful smile. He looked up at her, pointing over at the waitress. "You're an angel."

Alex ducked her head, dropping the bill on the table. "Don't mention it, Counselor."

The rest of the shift came and went and Alex was pulling on her backpack in a rush to get to Courtside. Mandy, on the other hand, was lounging in the corner of the little closet they called a break room. She was dropped down in a carefully casual pose, like she was trying to seem nonthreatening.

"You gonna tell me what's really bugging you?" she asked seriously, nervously tugging at her paint stained fingers, "And don't bullshit me. I've been patching you up since we were twelve, Moreno. I know all your tells."

Alex's chest tightened, her eyes carefully kept down as she zipped up her hoodie. "Nothing's bugging me."

"You sure?" her friend shot back, clearly not believing her, "What about last night?"

The darker haired woman shrugged, pressing her lips together. "I- I was tired."

"After looking at a freaky article about a Wraith getting the shit kicked out of him?" Mandy pointed out, standing up from her chair, "Alex, if you're scared or something, I can-"

"You can stay out of it," Alex snapped, staring her friend straight in the eye, "I mean it. Nothing's going on."

"Don't pull that with me," the other woman snapped back, "You promised you'd keep me in the loop."

"And I also told you this is my problem," she responded, almost desperately, "Besides, you've been okay with the rest of this shit. Why are you asking questions now?

"Because you're scaring me."

"Seriously, Mandy. I need you to stay out of it." Alex stared her friend down, almost feeling taller than her for a moment. Her throat felt tight, hoping that Mandy would keep her nose out of this. Keep herself safe. "Promise me you'll stay out of it."

The taller woman stood still, eyes falling over Alex like she was trying to decide what to believe. Something softened behind her eyes, guilty and unsure. "Are you… is somebody hurting you?"

Alex's throat closed, practically choking her. Her eyes flicked over Mandy, her body going stiff as she struggled to find any combination of words that would get her friend to stop asking questions. There was no way she could tell her. Not without putting her at risk.

"I'm fine," she croaked out, figuring the simplest route would be the easiest, "Seriously. It's… it's not like before."

She watched as her friends face crumpled, no doubt remembering all the nights when they were kids where a Alex crawled through her window. She could still remember how it felt, having Mandy pop her shoulder back in place, bandage cuts on her back. But that was before. And she wasn't going back.

Without waiting for her friend to respond, Alex stomped out of the room and out of the diner. The noise in the streets was a welcome distraction to the noise in her head.

* * *

Not too far away, Matt Murdock was buried neck deep in litigation paperwork. His fingers carefully scoured the braille indents, trying to memorize every piece of evidence they had. He could hear Karen shuffling around in the next room over, organizing files while she listened to an unfortunately irritating pop song. He wondered briefly if he genuinely would prefer to have his nose broken again by the butt of a gun. The answer, of course, was yes. He would most definitely prefer that.

On top of everything, he felt like there was a target on his back. On his friends backs. How stupid had he been, trusting Alex? How completely and utterly naive to think that she was willing to work with him, give him something that could bring down the Wraiths.

Luckily, his concentration was cut off by the sound of his partners feet stomping up the stairs towards their office. Listening to the footfalls, Matt leaned back and cracked his neck. Not too long after, Foggy strode into the office, causing their old door to creak painfully loudly as he did.

"How's it going, buddy?" he called out, the smell of pastry thick on his breath as he made his way into Matt's office.

The blind man reached out and grabbed hold of one of the papers he'd been reading. "I've been going over Mrs. Velasquez's accounts, trying to find any similarities with other Wraith hits."

Foggy nodded, leaning against the door as he closed it. "Well, I had a great morning. Thanks for asking. This awesome waitress gave me a freaking buffet of free food because she recognized my incredibly handsome mug from the Fisk trials."

"Looks like you've got a fan," Matt tried to smile, though he figured it came out as more of a grimace.

"What can I say?" he smirked, "I've always been the charismatic one. Hey, do you think Karen would like apple fritters?"

A small chuckle escaped Matt's lips, his head ducking down a little. "Are you planning on seducing her with pastries?"

"Oh, shut up," Foggy groaned, his head hitting the doorframe as he threw it back, "You can't judge me, Murdock. You're the one Mr. and Mrs. Smith-ing it with a drug dealer."

The small smile that had grown on Matt's face quickly fell, his lips turning down into a deep frown. He could feel his fist tighten involuntarily on his desk. Foggy seemed to catch on, his feet shifting under him as he looked around the messy office. He raked his hands through his hair as he tried to seem casual.

"So…" he drawled, discomfort clear in his voice "Your face is weird."

"Couldn't tell."

"Quit dodging. What's up, Murdock?" his friend ignored him, keeping up the questioning, "If I didn't know any better- which I definitely do- I'd say this has got something to do with the aforementioned drug dealer."

The blind man pressed his head into his hands. "You probably want plausible deniability."

"Screw that," Foggy said, only slightly hesitant as he did, "Tell me what's up."

Matt's mouth twisted up, unsure of how to say anything. His throat felt tight as he opened up his mouth to try. "The dealer didn't show last night."

His friend nodded, keeping his distance. "That doesn't sound ideal."

"It's not," he confirmed tiredly, pressing his back into his chair, "As far as I know, she's told her bosses where I am."

"How can she?" Foggy asked, concern showing, "She doesn't know who you are, does she?"

"No," Matt reassured him, "But she's… unpredictable."

"How do you know?" the other man asked, his hands going up slightly, "Not that I'm doubting your creepy lie detector powers, but you've only met her- what? Three times? You can't get much of a read on a person that quick."

What Foggy didn't know was just how right he was. Matt barely knew Alex, but something about her scared him. He couldn't tell when she was lying or when she was afraid- her pulse was the same either way. She jumped between being terrified of him and proposing she gather information for him in the span of seconds. How could he trust someone who switched sides so easily? And who could he know if she didn't switch again?

His head pounded, a headache forming. He pressed his hands harder into his desk, breathing through his nose like he did when he was a kid.

"What do you think?"

Foggy's pulse jumped slightly, his surprise painfully clear. His mouth gaped open and closed, carefully choosing his words as his voice transitioned over to his usual uncomfortably sarcastic cadence.

"What? No priest this time?" he snarked. However, his tone went incredibly serious a moment after. "Please tell me I'm not your new priest."

Matt sighed, feeling his headache grow. "You're not my priest Foggy."

"Good.," he grumbled, scratching at the back of his head, "I'm lapsed anyway."

"What do you think, Foggy?" Matt repeated, trying to keep his friend focused.

Matt didn't want to tell his friend that he was desperate for him to tell him… he didn't know. The man truly didn't know what he wanted his friend to tell him to do. Part of him wanted to find Alex, do what he needed to do in order to be sure she wasn't selling him out. He didn't trust her. But she was scared. Like anyone else would be.

"You want my suggestion?" Foggy murmured, taking a deep breath as if to prepare himself for what he clearly didn't like having to say, "Find her. Figure out if she's sold you out. I'm not saying break her into bits, but… make sure your ass isn't about to go to jail. Or worse."

Matt still didn't know what he'd wanted Foggy to say. But couldn't be sure he'd wanted that.

* * *

Courtside had been the absolute living worst.

Alex sat in the back, angrily scraping off makeup with a half-dry wipe that was quickly turning her skin red. Entire chunks of cheap foundation and eyeliner smeared down her jaw, wet tracks from the half-drunk woman who'd thought it was Alex's fault that her boyfriend touched her ass. She could feel his grease and hot sauce covered fingers on the top of her thigh, and an orange stain from the wing sauce decorated the back of her skirt.

She'd wanted to punch the man, or slap the girlfriend. Let her still shaking hands break someone's nose. But she couldn't afford to lose her job.

Sitting on the grimy counter in front of her was her phone. The cracked screen was bright and a text stood out across the front. Of course, the message was from Brendon, and it was just as charming as she'd come to expect from him.

 _Meet me on W 49th. Wear that cheerleader outfit._

She gagged at the thought of Brendon pawing at her with his still bruised fingers in this humiliating getup.

"You doing okay, sweetie?"

Alex jerkily turned her head, neck cracking in the process, to see Nina leaning against the wall. She'd changed back into a large t-shirt and jeans, her hair thrown up into a ragged ponytail. He looked over at Alex, only a little concerned.

"Yeah…" the dark haired woman nodded, turning back to the mirror and scrubbing hard at her face, "Bad shift, you know?"

"Don't I ever," the other woman agreed, snatching up her backpack from a little locker, "Don't get mugged on your way home, okay?"

Instead of answering, she gave Nina a tired thumbs up as the other woman left. Shakily, Alex changed out of her outfit and grabbed hold of her threadbare backpack before ducking out of the bar herself.

The night air outside was sticky and uncomfortable. Her shirt stuck to her back and her hair felt like it might never pull away from her sweaty forehead. Her shoulders were so tight she worried she might snap in half if someone so much as poked her.

It didn't take long to reach the spot Brendon had dictated to her. He stood in the fluorescent street light, greasy hair falling over his face in a barely functional attempt to cover up the bruising along his hairline. His fingers were out of their bandaging, though still green with old bruises. He caught sight of Alex almost immediately, his ugly smile crooked on his face.

"No outfit, then?" he drawled, leaning back on his heels and raking his eyes over her body.

She felt her insides shudder, jaw tightening. "Amazingly, I don't dress for you."

"Whatever," he grumbled, fingers twitching like they were empty without a cigarette, "Bet you're wondering why you're here."

Dramatic asshole. Alex's fingers went stiff at her sides. "You need me to run a deal."

"Bullshit," he sniggered, turning his dark eyes on her in a way that made her spine run cold, "I'm here about the idiot in a ninja suit."

Fuck.

"What've I got to do with it?" Alex tried to keep her voice from shaking. Her knuckles popped as she clenched her fists so tight her fingernails dug into her skin. She could feel little cuts as she dug in deeper.

Brendon shrugged his shoulders, barely hiding the wince of pain as he did. He must still be healing there, too. "Heard you were outside the hospital. Y'know, the one with our runners hanging by a thread?"

She had no idea how he knew she'd been there. Did he really have eyes everywhere, or did he get lucky? "I don't know what you're talking about."

A slow smirk spread over his face, the expression almost proud. His lips pulled up and his tobacco laden breath fanned over Alex's face, making her want to gag. "I get you, Lexi. You're a survivor, like me. How long do you think you'll survive with the Devil of Hell's Kitchen running around?"

Her spine went stiff, feeling his eyes dig into her. The woman's eyes darted down to the concrete beneath her feet. "Not long."

"So keep yourself alive and help me out," Brendon continued, stepping uncomfortably close, "My father has gotten pretty interested in this freak, and he's pretty interested in taking him out."

Alex couldn't help the scoff that escaped her lips, eyes still glued to the ground. "No one hears from your father."

"Clearly I do," he spat, face snapping into a harsh snarl, "And I wouldn't piss me off if I were you."

The woman could feel her body sweat, practically hear her pulse thrum in her veins. Slowly, she lifted her eyes up to Brendon. "I don't understand what you're saying."

"Let's put it simply," he shrugged, "Help me catch a Devil."

"Think about it," he offered with a nod, his face turning up with what she assumed he thought was a sexy smirk, "If you help us catch this guy, your debt to us could theoretically be wiped out. Think of all the help that would do."

Alex knew what that would do. It meant she would be free.

No more mobsters or drug dealers. No more updates on her mother's debts. No more Brendon and his wandering hands or sickening breath on her face. She could go to work, save up. Get out of her shitty apartment and turn her life around.

What did she owe the freak in the mask, anyway? He screwed up her leg, nearly broke her arm, stalked her to her place of work. Her bicep was still tinged a sickly green color from where he'd gripped her last week. The best thing she could say about him was she was pretty sure he wasn't an anti semite.

"Or maybe you'd like to have a few fingers less."

And there was the catch.

Alex's eyes snapped up to the lanky man before her, feeling her stomach drop all the way down to the concrete below. The streetlight above them cut through Brendan's face, slicing up his crooked smile and making Alex want nothing more than to run in the other direction.

"Excuse me?" she choked out, her words feeling too heavy on her tongue.

The man shrugged, his face not changing a bit. "You know what I'm saying, Lexi."

"I don't-"

"Think it over," he cut her off, sauntering back on his heels, "You've got one day. Try and make the right call, Lexi."

With one last vomit inducing smile, Brendon Lynch turned on his heels and made his way back into the darkened sidewalk. Alex was left in the edge of the streetlight, smeared makeup on her face and shock in her stomach. Her breath felt shallow, caught halfway in her throat and getting tighter each time she tried to inhale. She stood shock still on the sidewalk, unable to will her feet to move. With shaking hands, Alex raked her fingers through her tied up hair, ripping out chunks from the elastic.

What had she done? How could she have been so stupid? She cursed herself under her breath, feeling her hair fly all around her face as she finally moved and dropped down on her ass on the dirty concrete. She cradled her head in her hands, trying desperately to figure out which evil she would have to choose. Which bridge to burn.

How was Alex supposed to know that the Devil was only halfway down the block. And how could he know that he could hear her.

* * *

 **A/N: Quick shout out to redladybug12 for your amazing and heartwarming comment that got me to finish up this chapter.**


	6. Brokering A Trust

Matt already knew where Alex lived. It wasn't hard to beat her there.

He kneeled on her fire escape, feeling the metal grates cut into his knees as he tried to figure out his next move.

She'd been ready to sell him out. He had no doubt about that. As she stuttered her way through a meeting with her boss- who he could tell was still healing from their last encounter- Matt had started to panic. His hands flew to his burner phone, ready to call Foggy and tell him to take himself and Karen to a motel. Any motel. Pay in cash while he tried to keep the Wraiths off his scent and do anything he necessary to make sure Alex didn't tell them anything they could use against him. Until he heard something else.

" _Unless you'd like to have a few fingers less."_

Her pulse jumped at that, and her words died in her throat. Suddenly it was like she switched sides. Again. And Matt couldn't blame her. Not completely.

She had no loyalty to this man. To the Wraiths. She was afraid, and it seemed that fear had kept her in line for a long time. But fear had also driven her to him, to back alley meetings with a man she thought had decapitated someone with a car door.

Fear kept her in line, but it wouldn't keep her loyal.

Sighing, Matt pushed open her window and slid inside her apartment.

As soon as he made it inside, he was hit with a strong smell of cheap perfume and sex. He almost gagged, pressing the back of his hand to his nose. The smell wasn't coming from anywhere in her space, based on the fact that the taste wasn't coating his tongue. But it was coming from somewhere below her. A few voices filtered in and out of his head, all rough and exhausted. This building was well known for being a haven for meth users and prostitutes, and the smell had sunk its claws into Alex's walls and rug. But it didn't seem like she'd added to it. He didn't know if that made it better, though.

In fact, the entire space felt… untouched. He ran his gloved fingers over the wall, feeling them catch against haphazardly taped up photos. No frames. No decorations that he could sense. Just a mattress- no bed frame, but it was stacked on top of boxes and pushed into the corner in a pathetic attempt to make it resemble one- a couch, a table, a few presumably mismatched chairs, a fridge and a stove. Everything was basic, empty. There to be used and walked away from. This was not a home.

He could hear her footsteps climbing the stairs, smell her drugstore shampoo. His head tilted in her direction, his feet remaining still as he stood in the middle of the living room. He just listened as she inches closer until he heard her key rattle in the lock and door squeal open. The noise pierced his ears before he heard the click of her flicking on the lights. Almost as soon as he heard the buzz of the cheap bulbs above their heads, he heard Alex barely swallow a scream.

She dropped the backpack and keys that had been clutched in her hands with a loud thud and she backed straight back into the door. Her pulse was loud. Deafening.

"W-what the fuck are you doing here?" she stammered, "How do you know where I live?"

He shrugged a little. "I have my ways."

"So you're stalking me home now?" she spat, fingers curling around the doorknob nervously, "Is this some sort of vigilante house call?"

"Y'know…" he said slowly, unsure of what combination of words would get her to calm down, "It's not exactly a great feeling finding out you've been meeting up with that anti semetic douchebag."

Okay, wrong choice of words.

The woman pressed her back even further into the door, hands tightening on the doorknob and twitching to open it and run. Her pulse jumped, breath hitching over it.

"I- I didn't…" she tried, voice garbling in her panic, "I wasn't going to do anything. I swear."

Another twitch in her heartbeat. A lie. But not one he could really fault her for.

Or maybe he could. But that wouldn't change a damn thing.

Slowly, with his hands carefully rising up beside his shoulders, he stepped through her most likely terrified gaze and made his way over to the kitchen. He could feel her eyes follow him, her breath reverberating in his ears. Trying to pick up on what he was looking for, Matt slid open a drawer and felt around until he found a large cooking knife. This made Alex dig her hand into her pocket, her shoulders colliding with the cheap plaster of the walls.

"W-what are you…" she sputtered, heart thrumming in her veins, "N-no please- I don't-"

Stepping forward, Alex pulled her hand out of her pocket and pointed a bottle of what smelled like mace out and pointed it right at him. But she didn't spray it, much to his surprise. Before she could panic further, Matt gently laid the knife down on the table between them, the handle facing Alex. He took a step back once his fingers were off the blade.

"It's for you. You're armed now," he said quietly, nodding towards her bottle of mace, "Twice."

He listened as she stood stiff, carefully trying to decide if this was a trick or not. Her heartbeat rattled in his ears, breath hard and shallow.

Apparently, self preservation won out. She reached over and grabbed hold of the knife, lofting it up with twitching fingers. Her other weapon- what Matt was now sensing was a small pepper spray that couldn't have cost more than five dollars- was also held up. He wondered if she looked scared, or if she covered it as well as he did. Probably not.

"What the hell are you doing in my apartment?" she demanded, voice quiet and insistent, "Have you been following me?"

Matt kept still, voice soft. "Yes."

He was surprised by the sharp laugh that escaped Alex's lips. "So you're honest now? No cloak and dagger bullshit?"

"I'm not here to hurt you," the masked man said quietly.

"Well- well maybe I'll hurt you," the woman hissed, feet frozen beneath her, "I'm in a violent, coke dealing gang. You think I haven't killed anyone before?"

There it was. Another slight jump in her pulse. Matt felt his lips quirk up, but fought to keep his face slack. "You aren't going to kill me."

"I could," she whispered, her voice tinged with a sort of longing he couldn't identify. The knife shook in her uncertain hands. "I could kill you."

"But you won't," Matt said, remaining still, "You're not like them."

The knife lowered an inch, her fingers shaking a little less. "How do you know?"

"Because you could have taken your boss's offer," he responded, keeping his distance in spite of her calming breath, "Told him where I was gonna meet you, earned his trust. But you didn't. You kept your word."

That seemed to do something. Alex sighed, knife dropping down to her side and hand with the bottle going up and swiping hair out of her face. Good, at least she wasn't pointing a weapon directly at his chest anymore. That was something.

"That just means I'm a coward," she murmured, her whole body sagging under the weight of her words.

"I don't think you're a coward, Alex."

"Don't patronize me," she spat back, not buying a word he was saying.

"Okay then, maybe you are a coward," he griped, fighting to keep the irritation out of his voice, "But you don't have to be."

The other woman scoffed, fingers tightening around the handle of the knife. "Are you trying to be charming?"

"I'm trying to say you can trust me," he insisted.

She was quiet at that, regarding him almost like she was trying to see through him. Read him the way he read others. Matt couldn't stop the quirk of his brows under his mask. He wasn't used to people looking that closely at him.

"How do I know you're not like them?" she questioned pointedly, her finger pointed at him accusingly, "That you won't just… just show up and break my bones or pull out my teeth if you're pissed."

"You don't," he conceded, hearing her breath hitch at the honesty, "But I won't."

"You know I've seen your leftovers," she reminded him, again swiping nervously at her hair, "And even if you don't… how is this better?"

His brows pulled together. "How is what better?"

"This," she hissed, gesturing between the two of them wildly, "This 'Big Brother Is Watching You' shit. You showing up and ordering me around and stalking me around the city like what I do belongs to you."

"It doesn't," Matt insisted, "You don't belong to me, and you don't belong to them. They made you think you do, but that's not true. You can make whatever decision you want."

"As long as I decide to feed you information," the other woman pointed out grimly.

The masked man shrugged, not able to argue that. "That would be ideal, I'm not gonna lie."

She regarded him once again, shoving her mace back into her pocket but keeping the knife in hand. He could feel heat rolling off of her in waves, nerves and fear and something close to anger.

"I know what you're doing," she whispered harshly, "Acting half decent and keeping your distance. You think I don't know this tactic? You're trying to make me think you're different. Safe. Whatever the hell you wanna call it. But I'm not buying it. I don't owe you shit."

"No, you don't," he reiterated, his jaw tightening with each spiteful word she spat at him, "But what do you owe yourself, Alex?"

A snort escaped her lips, an ugly and endearingly normal sound. "You talk like some slimy lawyer."

With the edge of panic gone from her voice, Matt noticed Alex's voice was lower than he previously noticed. Rougher, too. It held the edge of someone who once tried to smoke themselves into an early grave, but he couldn't smell any tobacco on her breath.

"You feel safe here," Matt observed, taking a tentative step closer. When she didn't step back, he took it as a good sign.

"Please," she muttered, bringing her free hand up to her hip, "I'm not dumb enough to call anywhere in this fucking city safe."

"We can meet here," he suggested seriously, "If you want."

He didn't need to see her to know her eyes were widening. "Here?"

"I'm…" Matt tried, unsure of what quite to say and what was the right thing. He didn't like the words he chose, and he didn't quite believe them either. "I'm putting some trust in you."

She was silent for a moment. Something she usually wasn't. She always rambled and stuttered and covered up her words with her heartbeat, but now something had switched. Something Matt couldn't identify.

"I'd say you're as stupid as you look," she lilted, the feeling of her eyes raking over his mask unsettling and irritating, "But I can't see you."

The smallest huff of breath escaped Matt's lips involuntarily. It was almost a laugh.

"You're a lot funnier when you're not stuttering," he pointed out, listening to her nervously shift her feet around.

She tapped her fingers against her leg, another tick he'd need to remember. "I'm a lot meaner, too."

Matt turned his ear, keeping his attention on her pulse. It wasn't jumping anymore, leaving him a clearer idea of when she was lying and when she wasn't. He hadn't heard her heartbeat this still before, though it still threaded through her faster and with more anxiety than any calm person could have.

"I meant what I said," he tried again, "I'm not going to hurt you."

"I've known a lot of people who said they weren't gonna hurt me," she shrugged, unfeeling and uncaring in a way he was all too familiar with, "Didn't really go my way."

His lips pressed together, unsure. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," she waved him off stiffly, her voice growing tight and angry, "That's not what scares me here. What's freaking me out is I- I really don't know what you want from me. I can't get a fucking read on you. You choke me, threaten to break my arm, stalk me and now you're saying you trust me like that's supposed to mean anything."

"It means something," he tried again, resisting the urge to step forward or growl at her. His whole body had gone tight, angered and frustrated that she hadn't done any of what he'd thought she'd do.

"It means you're lying to me."

"I'm not-"

"Don't," she cut him off hysterically, raising the knife almost unconsciously, "I can't- I can't handle this. I know liars. I've lived with them my whole life and… and I can't do that anymore."

"Fine," he hissed, his voice finally betraying his frustration as his fists tightened at his sides, "You're right. I don't trust you."

The apartment was quiet after that. He could pick up on a transaction going on between a prostitute and a customer a few floors up, smell someone smoking three doors down. But he focused on Alex, her heartbeat, her breath. It was… slow. Quiet. His head tilted to the side, almost not believing the sudden turn in her reactions.

"Tell me why."

Matt's brows pulled together and lips curled back in confusion. "You need an explanation?"

"Yes," she responded with an eerie calm, "Tell me why you don't trust me."

"I'm not-"

"Is it because you think I'm a crackhead?" she offered with a harsh laugh stuck in her throat, taking a step closer to him, "Because you want to bash my brains in? You wanna fuck me? What is it? Fucking say something!"

"Because you are everything wrong with this city," he spat, letting go of any calm facade he'd tried to keep up. His own heartbeat ran through him, blood pumping hot and furious through his veins, "Because you don't give a shit about anyone's safety but your own. You're selfish and you're desperate and you lie more than you breathe and I wish there was some other way for me to find out what I need to know but there isn't. It's just you and I need to know what you know, what you have access to. If I had any other way of doing this, I would."

Quiet again. Achingly so.

What surprised him was that Alex didn't react. He would have expected the woman to run, take a swing at him with the knife. Maybe fall into a stuttering mess. But what she did surprised him. Her breathing evened out, fingers loosening on the knife before she dropped it on the table beside her. She stood there for just a moment, giving him nothing before slowly nodding her head like she understood something he didn't. Maybe she did.

"He offered me an in," she said lowly, lowering her knife to her side, "Brendon."

Matt nodded uncertainly. "Yeah, I heard."

"How?" She wasn't accusing, her voice more curious than nervous, "You weren't nearby. I would've noticed you."

"Maybe you're not as observant as you think you are."

"Or maybe you're a little more like those spandex freaks uptown than people think you are."

The masked man remained quiet for a moment. His head ducked, fighting to keep his fingers from tightening into a fist at his side. "Maybe."

Her hands lifted up in a sort of surrendering gesture. "I won't ask. I really don't want to know. That's not what matters right now. If I get in with them… I can get more information. More details. More names and faces. I'd be like your own personal James Bond."

"That's not exactly what James Bond does."

"I don't know, I never watched the movies," the woman dismissed him, "Point is, I'd be some sort of spy."

Matt tilted his head to the side, keeping everything trained on the unpredictable woman in front of him. "What changed your mind?"

Her eyes fell over him, leaving an uncomfortable feeling to spread over his skin where her gaze met it. Her voice was quiet, rough. "You need something from me. You fuckin' hate it, but you need me. And you can't exactly decapitate me when I'm useful."

The masked man couldn't stop the disgusted smirk from sliding over his face. "Self preservation at its finest."

"Don't hate the player…" she shrugged, leaning back on her heels and swiping more hair from her face, "If I do this, I need something from you."

"What?"

"Protection," she stated seriously, "You use your super stalking skills to make sure they don't find out what we're doing and don't chop me up and throw me in the Hudson."

Nodding, he didn't see much problem with that. "I can do that."

"For now, we need each other," Alex continued, her voice carefully calm and business like, "I can't turn you in without getting killed and you can't let me die without losing your in with these fuckers. No cleaning up the city without this desperate, lying dealer."

"Makes sense," he responded quietly, still silently regarding her. But she stood firm, arms locked at her side and breathing under control.

"We can meet here," she said with the bite of resentment in her voice, "Not exactly my favorite option, but where the fuck else am I supposed to suggest? I'll pass on whatever shit I find. No more dark alleys. They don't watch me here."

The masked man nodded again, his mouth opening to respond when she took a step forward. Her breath was held, like she was surprised by her own movement, but she didn't back off. Matt, in contrast, stood still and didn't flinch. He could feel her eyes raking over him and jaw setting tight with resolve.

"One more thing, devil boy," she hissed, her breath hitting his face with how close she'd gotten, "No more knocking me around. No more black bruises or threatening to break my bones. You don't fuckin' touch me, got it?"

Matt's head tilted to the side ever so slightly, feeling his lips curl back. "Don't go running to your bosses and we won't have a problem."

Her heartbeat spiked, but she didn't move. They stood there, practically nose to nose when he heard her scoff ever so slightly. Like she found everything funny.

"Damned if you do…" she shrugged, not bothering to finish her sentence.

It wasn't an answer, nothing had truly changed. But he could tell something had shifted. Alex knew he needed her, that he wasn't about to rip her apart or land her in the hospital. It wasn't much, but it was enough for now. The whole thing made Matt's gut twist.

"So…" she drawled, taking a tentative step backwards, "That's it?"

"That's it."

"Good," she spat, sauntering backwards with carefully crafted casualness, "Can you leave now? I think this qualifies as a really shitty day."

Sneering over at her, he decided not to fight the woman on this and stepped towards the window. He could feel the humid breeze snaking its way from the streets into her apartment as he stepped through and onto the fire escape. He had no desire to stick around, confident that she wasn't about to go talking to the wrong people. Instead, Matt climbed up to the roof and decided to make his rounds for the night, his fists tight and body tense with barely contained frustration. He could hear her phone ring as he jumped over to the next building, shutting her out. He didn't want to hear another word from Alex Moreno for as long as he could possibly avoid her.

* * *

"Foggy, we just had coffee."

The frustration from last night had not gone away, much to Matt's annoyance. Instead, it had followed him into work the next day along with several deep cuts along his lower back from a particularly enthusiastic mugger who hadn't gone down easy. Now, he tried his hardest to keep himself from grimacing as Karen's usually soothing voice grated against his ears.

"C'mon, Karen," Foggy moaned from the other side of the room, "I need a pick-me-up. I've been going over this renters dispute for almost two hours."

Matt felt his lips quirk up slightly. "I'd like to point out we've both been doing that."

"And you look like shit, my friend," the other man pointed out with an accusing finger pointed in his direction.

Karen's laugh echoed through the office, ringing the blind man's already aching head. "If I make a run, will you stop complaining?"

"On my honor," Foggy swore, crossing his heart and everything.

Matt couldn't help the smile that spread over his face at the image, a small chuckle escaping from his lips. "You really don't have to, Karen."

The woman shrugged, already tossing her purse over her shoulder. "I'm already up any-"

 _Knock._

The three workers turned their heads towards the noise, each one incredibly confused. Matt shook his head slightly, annoyed that he hadn't caught that someone was walking up to their door. His head pounded from lack of sleep.

"Is… is that a knock?" Foggy pointed out.

"I think it is", Karen muttered, sounding just as surprised as Foggy, "I mean, we have been getting more clients lately."

"Not middle of the day clients", Foggy countered, sniffing the air, "I don't smell any baked goods. Maybe that means they're paying real money."

"You never know, could be fresh produce instead of cookies this time" Matt pointed out, gesturing towards the still closed door, "Shouldn't someone get the door?"

Karen immediately sprung into action, making her way towards the door as quickly as she could. Her heels were loud against the wood floors. "Oh- oh yeah."

As the door creaked open, Matt picked up on a woman standing stiffly on the other side. Her clothes reeked of aerosol and paint. She was tall, almost abnormally so, standing a decent ways above six feet.

"Uh-" she said tightly, uncomfortable and threading her fingers together nervously in front of her, "This is Nelson and Murdock, right?"

"Yeah!", Foggy piped up enthusiastically, "That's us."

"I saw the sign outside", she explained, still standing on the threshold, "Just- uh, you guys aren't on Google."

Foggy slumped slightly, probably disappointed that they hadn't broken into the internet yet. "Goddamnit. We've gotta work on that."

"Uh, would you like to come inside?", Karen asked kindly, waving the woman in.

The woman nodded, her wild hair brushing against her shoulders as she did. A wave of something sickly sweet hit Matt's senses, making his nose crinkle up. She cautiously stepped into the office, her pulse picking up as she did.

"So…", Foggy drawled, straightening himself up to look professional, "What can we help you with, miss?"

"You're- uh…" she tried, waving her hand in front of her like she was beckoning the right words to come to mind, "You guys took down Wilson Fisk?"

"Yeah, that was us", Matt responded, his brows pulling down in confusion, "Does this have something to do with him?"

"No", the woman responded, sounding nervous at the idea that she'd be tied to Fisk, "No, that's- that's not why I'm here."

"Then what can we help you with?" Karen asked softly, already pulling out her notepad.

The woman continued to wring her fingers together, a sort of nervous tick. Her pulse kept going up, seemingly terrified to say why she'd come. No- not so terrified, but nervous. Finally, she lifted her head and looked at all three people in the room.

"My name is- uh, it's Amanda Davis," she stated firmly, "I have evidence against the Wraiths."

Everyone in the office remained still, processing what the woman- Amanda- had just said.

Karen was the first one to react. She snatched up a pen and the recording device from her desk and ushering Mandy into the conference room. "Okay, that's great. Great, you just- uh, you go in here. We'll be right there."

As soon as Amanda had made it in, Karen shut the door and spun around to face the two lawyers. She started gesturing wildly, with Foggy quickly responding just as jerkily.

"What the hell?", he half whispered, grabbing onto Matt's arm, "Did we just get a visit from a freaking angel?"

"Foggy-"

"No, seriously!", he insisted, shaking Matt's arm in excitement, "We've got someone who can talk. Like- talk. _On record_."

The last words were directed right to Matt, who didn't need heightened senses to catch onto Foggy's intention.

"What do you think she's doing here?", Matt questioned, not completely understanding why this random woman had suddenly fallen into their laps, "It makes no sense. Why is she here?"

"Who cares, buddy?" his friend giggled, already moving to grab their file on the Wraiths, "We've got a verifiable witness who we can do a background check on. This is great!"

"Yeah, but what if-"

"Matt", Karen cut in gently, putting her hand on his shoulder, "Let's just do a preliminary interview. Figure out what she's got, do our own judging."

Sighing, Matt slowly nodded, much to the delight of Foggy. The three made their way into the conference room, where Mandy was still sitting and nervously curling her fingers together into what seemed to be knots. At the sound of them entering, she immediately straightened up. He could tell she was tightening her jaw, no doubt trying to look calm. Matt, following her lead, kept his face carefully open as he sat down in front of her.

"Miss Davis," he began lightly, sending her a quick smile to set her at ease, "You say you have information for us?"

"Clearly," she scoffed involuntarily, shoulders squared, "Why else would I be here?"

Foggy took that one in stride, shrugging his shoulders good naturedly. "You never know. Plenty of weirdos in this city. But can you tell us what you brought today?"

Picking up on her nervously twisting fingers, the blind man listened as Amanda looked between the three of them with apprehension. She ducked her head, letting out a long breath.

"Can't believe I'm working with fuckin' lawyers," she muttered under her breath, her New York accent thickening slightly with the annoyance layered in her words before she looked back up at them, "You guys can offer protection- that immunity shit, right?"

"Depends on what you have," Matt provided calmly, "But we can work to keep you safe."

"Well- uh, what if I had… everything?" she said lowly, leaning forward slightly, "Names, times, products. The whole nine yards. Could you protect someone then? Theoretically."

Foggy and Karen both perked up, both trying to keep their excitement under control. Matt, however, didn't have to. He felt his hands still over the table, listening skeptically as his friends started scribbling notes.

"Could you clarify that for us?" Matt said quickly, cutting off Foggy's no doubt extensive questions, "Are you saying you work for them?"

The man heard a small tick in the woman's pulse, his attention carefully on her. She stiffened up again, her eyes narrowing over at him.

"Well, uh-" she tried, her words clipped and careful, "You see, I- well, I'm not the one working for them."

"So who is?" Foggy questioned, his own voice slowing from it's excited state into a more calm tone.

"My friend."

Karen swiped some hair from her face, voice thick with sympathy. "So you're here to turn your friend in?"

"No!" the tall woman spat, snapping her gaze towards their office manager with venom in her voice, "No, nothing like that. I'm… I'm here to get her here."

Matt tilted his head to the side, confused. "What do you mean?"

"I mean…" the woman responded slowly, like she didn't know which words to pick, "I told her to meet me here, and I didn't tell her it was a law office. She doesn't even look at signs, anyway. Just addresses."

"Miss Davis-"

"She'll talk", she insisted fervently, leaning forward, "I just… had to tell her to meet me at the engravers two doors down from here. I just gave her your address and figured she'd be too distracted to see the sign on your door."

"Miss Davis", Matt said calmly, "We can't coerce someone into giving evidence."

"I said she'll talk", Mandy repeated tightly, her hands coming up and waving around, "My friend, she's- she hates the Wraiths. They've been blackmailing her for over a year, threatening her and hurting her and- and basically just controlling her life. If she realizes this is her way out… I don't know. I thought she deserved a shot."

As Amanda kept trying to explain with her voice pitching up with every word, Matt noticed something- or someone- coming up the stairs. Their well worn shoes squeaked against the wood of the stairs. The familiar scent of syrup and shampoo drifted through the halls, coming closer and closer to the office.

 _Oh, shit._

With a long creak, the door opened to reveal someone who definitely shouldn't be here. Amanda whipped her head around, a nervous smile on her face as she jumped out of her chair and towards the woman Matt had just managed to convince that he wasn't going to control her life.

"Alex!", she cried out a little too enthusiastically, throwing her arms around the other woman, practically engulfing her with her impressive height, "Glad you- uh, you made it."

The other woman untangled herself from her friend, eyes raking around the place. "I thought we were getting a present for Reagan?"

"Uh…" the taller woman drawled, hand going up to her hair and ruffling it, "You see, that wasn't exactly the truth."

Alex's mouth opened and closed, unsure of what to say. Matt, similarly, felt his heartbeat echo through his whole body. What the hell had just happened? There was no way this woman would talk to lawyers, let alone him. There was- there was no possible reason for her to be here. The blind man felt his head spin, a million possibilities of how this could all crash around him running through his mind when-

"Diner girl?" Foggy's surprised voice interrupted his thoughts.

Alex whipped her head towards Foggy, her head tilted in confusion. "Nelson?"

Karen looked over at Foggy curiously. "You know her?"

"Yeah," he said, still not taking his eyes off the lanky woman and stepping into the main office, "She's that kickass waitress I told you about. What are you-"

"Like Nelson and-" she interrupted him, pointing towards him like she was putting the last piece of a puzzle in place, "Oh, hell no."

"Alex-" Amanda tried quickly, grabbing hold of Alex's arm as she tried to spin on her heel and leave, "Hey, just-"

"What the hell did you just do, Mandy?" she hissed, though there was no venom in her voice. Not like she'd spoken to Daredevil the night before. Instead, it cracked over certain words, higher pitched and quieter.

"I'll explain, I promise," the taller woman provided, tugging her friend towards the meeting room, "Just… just sit down."

"For what?"

"Just trust me, okay?"

Slowly, like someone afraid she might burst into flames if she stepped over the threshold, Alex stepped into the room. Directly beside Matt. She looked around, eyes falling on him quickly. He could feel her gaze boring into him like she knew him. Matt's muscles tightened, fingers curling together protectively when-

"You're that lawyer guy," she said quietly, making Matt freeze a little with surprise, "Murdock, right?"

There were no right moves. None that the blind man could think of, anyway. All he could think was he was completely and utterly screwed.

"Most people call me Matt," he said in the most pleasant voice he could fake, hand going out to shake hers and landing just off center, "May I ask your name?"


	7. Alex Is Fucked

Alex really needed to start paying attention to where she was going. It was a bad habit- one that became incredibly apparent when she walked right into the last place she should be seen if she wanted to keep her limbs intact.

If Brendon found out she was in the office of none other than Franklin and Murdock, she'd end up having bits of her body scattered through the Hudson. And if a certain masked freak with a long history of leaving her littered in bruises found out…

No. This couldn't be happening. She couldn't seriously be stupid enough to still be standing in their waiting room- if one could call it that. It was more of a dull beige closet that lead into a smaller room. She didn't have much experience with lawyers, but she'd pictured something a little less depressing.

Yet there she was, standing in front of Matthew fucking Murdock, his hand just off center of a proper handshake. She hadn't reciprocated, and she figured it was starting to get awkward. Instead of reaching out, she felt her eyes raking over his face. It was familiar, considering the amount of news coverage he'd gotted during the Fisk trial. Alex had seen him almost every day for two weeks, watching the trial like a crime junkie. Trying to decipher what evidence had been useful, what had swayed the jury. She still had notes she'd taken tucked away in the corner of her closet next to her own notes on the Wraiths.

Her eyes fell back down to his hand, still outstretched towards her and lips turned up in a smile that was far too practiced to be genuine. That wasn't a surprise. Swallowing the tightness in her chest and breathing as normally as she could, she placed her hand in the blind man's and shook it gently.

"I- uh, I'm Alex," she croaked, quickly pulling her hand from his grip and shoving back into her pocket/.

She watched as the man's practiced smile didn't waver for even a millisecond, instead retracting his own hand and tilting his head to the side ever so slightly. "Nice to meet you, Alex. Do you have a last name?"

"Let's just stick with Alex for now," she shrugged him off, keeping her eyes carefully trained on his still face.

It was creepy, watching his face remain perfectly composed. This man was either a fantastic lawyer or a complete psychopath considering how cold his smile was. Alex didn't like it, feeling her shoulders stiffen and stance become a little more defensive as she glared down at him despite knowing he couldn't see it.

"I- I'm sorry," she tried, stepping backwards and keeping her voice low and even with very little success, "I don't mean to waste your time. I didn't schedule this and- I don't need any help. So, I'll just-"

Of course, Mandy couldn't let it go. "Alex, please just-"

"Mandy, I really need to-"

"-if you'd just tell them what you told me-"

"-I will deal with you later-"

"Hold on."

Alex turned her head, surprised to see Nelson- Foggy, he'd told her to call him Foggy- speaking over Mandy's protests and stepping in front of her with a gentle smile on his face. It was far less artificial than his partner's, seeming simultaneously warm and confused. A little cute, in a pathetic sort of way. "I can't let the best waitress in Hell's Kitchen leave. At least not without one of our stellar two day old bagels."

"I couldn't-"

"I insist," the slightly shorter man chirped, eyes darting over to his partner before he kicked Murdock's chair in a way that probably wouldn't have been noticed by anyone if Alex wasn't paying such close attention, "My partner here will just- provide some chit chat. And then we can all decide how to proceed. If you want to, that is."

Slowly, Alex felt herself nod her head in agreement. What the hell else was she supposed to do. A tiny knot tightened in her chest, hot and angry. She could feel Mandy's eyes trained nervously on her, but she wouldn't look back. If she did, she might start screaming at her. Or crying. She didn't know which one would be more humiliating. Instead, she kept her gaze trained on the two lawyers and their secretary like they might pounce at any moment. The girl looked like a supermodel, and her smile was too wide in Alex's opinion. No one sane had any reason to smile like that. Foggy was busying himself clumsily bringing her the bagel he'd promised. The two of them looked a little desperate, like they were intent on keeping her there. Only Murdock looked calm, in his own way. Cold.

The blonde interrupted Alex's observation with a gentle nudge to her shoulder which the darker haired woman quickly shrugged off. "Would you like to take a seat?"

"Totally," Mandy inserted, placing her hand on Alex's shoulder and pushing her towards the open seats across from the lawyers. The dark haired woman stumbled as she was pushed, falling ass first into the chair just as Foggy came in with a cheap paper plate holding an even cheaper bagel.

"Here ya go," the man said cheerily, dropping the food in front of Alex before taking a seat across from her, "Good ol' west 45th street bagels."

"Thanks," Alex muttered, picking at the edge of the dried out bread.

She could feel Murdock's focus on her, a sense of being watched even though she knew he couldn't see her. It made her backs stiffen, eyes flicking over to him as if she'd catch him with his head turned to her. No such luck, he faced forward with his hands folded in front of him. Moving her gaze back towards Foggy, she saw him smiling reassuringly over at her. Sweet, but off putting.

"So," he began, a pen in his hand and notebook open in front of him, "Your friend says you have information on the Wraiths?"

Alex shrugged, pushing back a stray lock of hair. "What did she say?"

Mandy shifted in her seat beside her. "I said-"

"I'm asking them," she cut her friend off, eyes flicking over to the taller woman. Guilt flickered in her chest as she saw the sunken look on Mandy's face. Softly, she tapped her foot against her friends, a small gesture but one that got the point across. The dark skinned woman nodded, turning back towards the team before them.

Foggy and Blondie seemed to understand, both straightening up slightly while Murdock remained still. The shorter man floundered a bit, his pen twitching between his fingers before his partner decided to speak instead.

"Ms. Davis told us you work for them," the blind man offered, his head tilting slightly more in her direction, "No specifics, but she mentioned you have a substantial amount of evidence against them."

"She suggested that maybe you'd be willing to give us that evidence," Foggy continued, "That you'd be willing to work with us, help build a case against these people."

"I never said I'd do that," Alex said sharply, crossing her arms and leaning back in her chair, "You can't make me do something like that."

The shaggy haired man blinked over at her, smile falling for a moment. "We never said we'd make you do anything, miss."

The room was quiet for a moment, all five people regarding each other. For some reason, the blonde thought she should be the one to diffuse the tension.

"Ma'am, my name is Karen Page," she said, clearly trying to sound gentle and friendly which only made Alex scowl deeper, "I know this can be scary, but if you tell us what you know, we can help you as best we can."

The dark haired woman couldn't help the scoff passing over her lips, face twisting up into a humourless smile. "Help me? The fuck are you people supposed to do for me?"

"We can help you if you cooperate," Murdock interjected calmly, his practiced smile still in place, "You know what this organization's been up to, what they've done to people."

"I barely know anything," she tried to cover, "I'm small time. No one's interested in telling me their dirty secrets, so I'm pretty much useless."

"Well," Foggy cut in, "I wouldn't say useless. You definitely know more than we do, and we could use any information we can get."

"I really don't know anything," Alex insisted, feeling Mandy's eyes burning into the side of her head.

"Somehow I doubt that."

Whipping her head around, the woman glared over at Murdock. He was now fully facing her, his dark glasses cutting a harsh image against his pale features. As usual, his face was impassive, nothing like the fierce and twisted image she remembered from the Fisk trial. Apparently his tone was surprising to his team as well, considering Alex could see Foggy glaring confusedly at his partner. She glared, too. She didn't care if he couldn't see it. He'd feel it.

"What does that mean, counselor?" she asked in a sickly sweet voice.

Mandy kicked at her ankle in an attempt to keep the other woman in check, but Alex didn't even turn her head.

"Miss," he responded calmly, regarding her as if she were so transparent she almost felt x-rayed, "With all due respect, we don't know what you've done yet. I understand that perhaps you've had a change of heart, but we have a policy of defending innocent clients here."

"Who says I'm not innocent?" she spat back.

He didn't even react. "You did."

Alex felt her fingers wrap tightly around the edges of her shorts, tangling in the ripped and frayed edges. "Think it's possible to talk to me like I'm not some background villain on The Wire?"

"That's- uh, that wasn't our intention," Foggy tried to backtrack, his face falling completely as he scrambled to salvage whatever form of conversation he'd been trying to forge before, "What my partner means is-"

"Did he mean to be an asshole?" she pushed, leaning forward slightly.

"No, of course not," the blonde tried to smooth things over, "Matt is just really particular about, well, the morality of the cases we choose."

Foggy quickly cut in. "Not to say you're not moral or anything. That's not what we meant."

The two scrambled over their words, the secretary trying to be smooth and calming while Foggy barely kept up with his own words. But Alex was way more interested in Murdock's silence. He just... kept staring at her. Not staring, per se, but something close. Like he was listening to her closely. God, the man was giving her the creeps. His face felt so deceptively gentle. Maybe he was feeling her out, figuring out what she was. He was well known for only defending those on the moral high ground- which she definitely was not. Or maybe he really did think she was some selfish, coke dealing bitch who wasn't worth defending. Could she blame him?

Yes, but that wasn't the problem. Her breath hitched slightly, feeling something heavy in her stomach as she realized that all of this was a waste. They would make their decision soon enough, and she didn't want to be around when they did.

"You know what?" Alex cut Foggy off, only slightly guilty about it, "This was a mistake. I really- I shouldn't even be here."

"Wait, Ms. Moreno-" Murdock said, his brows pulling together as he seemed to follow her shift out of her seat.

"I'm sorry. I really am, just-" she stopped, pushing herself out of her chair and making a beeline for the door, "I should go."

"No- hey, Alex, just-" Mandy scrambled out of her seat, reaching over and trying to grip Alex's wrist. She was quickly shaken off before she called out desperately, "She's legit, okay? She's practically a legacy."

Just as the dark haired woman made it to the door, she froze. Her head whipped around, eyes widening as she stared at her friend.

Oh, fuck.

"What- uh, what does that mean?" Blondie- Karen- asked quietly, already pulling a pen out to continue taking notes.

"Mandy, don't."

Alex's voice was quiet, heavy with warning as she kept her eyes trained on her friend. Mandy stared back, lips twisted up and hands clenched at her sides as if she was fighting to open her own mouth. But she did.

"Her dad tried to do the same thing. You can look it up-"

"Mandy shut up."

"Danny Moreno, he was a snitch- or, uh, an informant before-"

"Mandy shut your fucking mouth _now_!"

Alex's throat felt rough as she spat out those words. Silence fell over the little office, her friend glaring right back at her. But she had nothing on the dark haired woman's venom.

She could feel her heart beat hard in her ribcage, anger coursing through her veins. Hot and thick, beating in time with her pulse. Her face was twisted, cheeks burning as her fingers tightened around the door handle. Breathing as evenly as she dared, Alex ripped open the door and threw herself out of the office, feet stomping heavily as she did.

As she made her way back into the busy and humid street, she could hear someone running up behind her.

"Wait! Excuse me!"

Alex's head whipped around, her hair flying in her eyes as she saw the impossibly skinny secretary rushing towards her, dodging pedestrians as she went. How she managed to do that in heels was beyond Alex, and she had very little interest in learning the skill.

"Look, Blondie, I don't know what you're thinking I'm gonna do-"

"I understand this is scary."

A snort burst out of Alex's lips, her hand going up to pull her hair out of her eyes. "Sure. Yeah, you get it. You've been forced into a gang before?"

"No," Karen responded, now right in front of the other woman with a gentle expression, "No, that's not it. But… I was a whistleblower at Union Allied."

The name was familiar. A scratch at the back of Alex's memory. Her brows furrowed as she thought back to it and tried to pinpoint what the blonde had meant.

"The Fisk front?" she said, trying to tie her thoughts together, "Yeah, I- I remember that one. Some nasty fuckers worked there."

"Yeah, I know," she responded with a humourless laugh, "I know how these people can get into your head, tangle themselves up in your life. They make you think no one can help you, that you're better off just doing whatever they tell you to do. But these guys- Matt and Foggy- they pulled me out of that. They helped drag me out of that shit and they can do the same for you."

Alex could tell what this woman wanted. Trust. She'd seen this tactic a million times. Everyone knew what you felt, what made you similar and how to pull those strings when they needed something from you. Well, she was already tangled up with the worst people in the city, and she wasn't about to tangle herself up with another group of sympathy hungry assholes.

"That's cute," she scoffed, leaning back on her heels, "Real fuckin' cute, Blondie. Bet you made a real pretty key witness- I mean, fuck, you look like you belong in a Victoria's Secret ad. Everyone wept for your sob story, right?"

"I didn't mean to offend you-"

"I bet they did.," she continued, ignoring the confused and slightly offended look on the woman's face, "You see anyone weeping for me?"

Karen was quiet, eyes flicking all over Alex's face. It made her want to either slap her hard or curl up in a corner. She didn't like those blue eyes all over her skin.

"Are you gonna fuckin' answer me?"

Slowly, the blonde shook her head. "No. You don't seem like you want pity."

"I don't," the dark haired woman confirmed, feeling her phone buzz in her pocket, "So you can keep your sympathy. I don't need it."

Without thinking, she fished her phone out of her pocket and looked over the screen only to feel her face fall almost immediately.

Brendon was calling.

"Ms. Moreno-"

"Don't call me that," she cut Karen off, the bite out of her voice as she held the phone to her chest to cover the name, "Just- just please go."

The other woman didn't seem to need much prodding, stepping back towards the door to her building. She only threw one more pitying look over her shoulder which made Alex want to hurl. Instead of focusing on that, she started to walk away and pressed her phone to her ear with shaking fingers. She hadn't spoken to Brendon since he'd not so nicely offered her a position to catch a vigilante that she definitely didn't want to piss off at the moment.

"Yeah?" she said carefully, not sure what kind of mood the asshole was in right now.

"Where the fuck are you?" he spat through the speaker.

Okay. Bad mood.

"What are you talking about?" she tried, sidestepping a couple that were definitely going to break up soon, considering the amount of yelling they were doing in public.

"You've got a drop in half an hour, you fucking cunt."

Alex searched her memory, having no clue what he was talking about. She didn't have any deals today until much later that night. It made no sense, but it also made no sense to piss this guy off more than he was right now. She still hadn't responded to his offer, and she didn't want to make him think she was flipping on him. She was, of course, but he didn't need to know that.

"Shit, I-" she choked out, breaking into a run towards the warehouse she'd met him at not too long ago, "I'm on my way, okay?"

He didn't even respond. He just hung up on her. Alex pulled the phone from her ear, glaring at the old and cracked piece of shit for good measure.

"Asshole," she muttered, shoving the device back into her pocket and breaking back into a run.

It didn't take long to make it to her destination. She'd only run into three pedestrians, and she'd apologized each time. But she ran straight into the warehouse, the familiar stench of sweat and blood burning her nostrils as she came to a huffing stop inside. Brendon was there, leaning against a wall in a too big leather jacket like he thought it would look cool. He didn't, he looked more like an overgrown teenager trying to get into a bar.

"Took you long enough, Lexi," he chuckled, pressing a cigarette between his lips.

The woman swallowed hard, catching her breath as best she could. "You told me there was a deal I missed."

"Nah," he shrugged, lighting his smoke before taking a long drag, "Figured it would get you here faster, though. Turns out I was right."

"So there's no drop?" she huffed, leaning down and pressing her hands to her knees, "What the fuck, man?"

"Needed to get you here," he shrugged her off, eyeing her exposed legs in a way that made her skin crawl, "I need to know if you've considered my offer."

Alex's eyes flicked up to the taller man, her breath caught in her throat involuntarily. Straightening up, she kept her arms carefully at her sides and schooled her face to keep herself from giving anything away. "Right. Yeah, the offer."

"It's a yes or no question, Lexi," he insisted, taking a few steps towards her, "And I'm really starting to get impatient."

"No need," she said, not breaking eye contact, "I'm in."

Maybe it was the right move. Maybe she was going to learn everything she needed to know to burn Brendon and the rest of his fucked up organization to the ground and piss on the ashes for good measure. But just looking at the sick smile spread over the lanky man's face like a shark smelling blood, Alex could feel it in her gut that she was not going to come out of this unscathed.

* * *

After all the details- whatever details Brendon could come up with on the spot, anyway- were sorted out, Alex trudged her way back to her apartment. Apparently, the man wanted her to be in on some meetings, be a decoy. Draw the devil out as it were. The initial plans were juvenile at best, but she had no doubt that someone much smarter was going to start pulling the strings soon enough. It was a longer walk, familiar and well tread as she practically slumped all the way there in the darkening streets.

She pulled out her phone, ready to call the aforementioned Devil with new information when she realized- she didn't have his number. Muttering a few choice words under her breath and gripping her phone tightly in annoyance, Alex made a mental note to ask for the masked man's contact information next time he broke into her place. Did vigilantes even have phones? Or would that break their mysterious persona? It didn't matter, she decided. She needed a way to contact him.

With a sigh, she trudged up the stairs and towards her apartment. She could hear a few people having very loud and, notably, very bad sex as she walked down the hall. Her eyes rolled of their own accord as she stuck her key in the lock and pushed her way inside. She had just lazily slammed the door behind her when-

"What the fuck was that?"

With a high pitched yelp, Alex nearly jumped out of her skin and turned to see Mandy leaning against her fridge with a particularly pissy look on her face.

"What the hell?" she huffed, leaning back against her door and pressing her hand to her head to stave off a fast approaching headache, "You could have told me you'd be here."

"When was I supposed to do that?" she bit back, arms crossed over her long torso and covering the old Clash t-shirt she'd changed into since the meeting, "Before or after you stormed out of a fuckin' lawyers office?"

"I did not storm out," Alex grumbled, "I very politely left under protest."

Mandy scoffed, all humor gone from her face as she glared at her friend. "What the fuck, Alex? Are you really this stupid?"

"I could ask you the same thing," the pale woman hissed, pushing herself off of the door and glaring right up to her tall friend, "What the fuck were you thinking dragging me over there? And what was that shit about my dad, huh?"

"I was getting you to stay, moron," Mandy responded with a twisted look, "You're the one acting weird, all jumpy and shit. You've got black bruises and sloppy excuses- and don't you try to cover again, okay? I've heard every excuse you've ever come up with."

Alex breathed deep, trying to keep her temper in check. "This isn't like that, okay? For one thing, I'm not fifteen anymore."

"Then don't act like it," her friend cut her off, "You've been freaked out of your mind for weeks, and you swore to me you wouldn't lie about it. You did, so I held up my end of the agreement."

Alex spitefully thought back to that particular agreement. If she ever tried to cover up someone hurting her, Mandy got to go to someone. She'd never thought that someone would be a group of lawyers. She'd always assumed it would've been Reagan or one of her hipster friends with a huge trust fund.

"You still didn't have to tell them about my dad."

The air passed out of Mandy's lips with a tinge of regret. "I thought it would be the only thing that would get you to stay."

"Well, it won't," she spat, stepping around her friend and pulling down a box of stale cereal. She hadn't eaten all day and she really didn't want to keep talking.

Mandy, on the other hand, didn't get the memo. She was breathing hard, glaring at Alex's back like she wanted to hit her hard over the head. She wouldn't. Alex knew that much. No matter what, they never laid hands on each other. But what she said was worse than a smack to the head.

"If you don't do this, I'm done."

Her blood ran cold. Eyes widening, Alex turned around and stared at her friend, trying to decipher if she was serious.

"What the fuck does that mean?" she said quietly, setting down the box of cereal without breaking eye contact.

"It means I'm done with you," the taller woman shrugged, trying to look steady but only managing to look hurt, "You won't step within fifty feet of me. Or Reagan."

"Mandy-"

"No- no, I have tried to help you for too long," she insisted, half angry and half pleading, "I have been pulling your ass out of the mud since we were kids, and I can't do it anymore. I found you an out- hell, you're even a fan of those guys. Even if that Murdock guy is a dick, those guys are dicks that can keep you from dying in a fuckin' gutter. I've- I've done everything, okay? It's this or nothing."

"Why are you pushing this?" Alex asked harshly, voice barely above a whisper as if the words were too harmful to be spoken at regular volume, "This isn't just some spy movie. We're not being played by hot actresses who cry on the stand and make out with their lawyers while the bad guys get put away. We're talking about the Wraiths, about Brendon fuckin' Lynch and his creepily mysterious daddy pulling the strings."

"I don't want to wake up in the middle of the night to a call asking me to identify your body."

"And I don't want them to send me your body parts in a box."

Fear was cold, and it was coursing through Alex like nothing else. Mandy had no clue- no fucking clue what she'd done for her all this time. She'd kept her away from the danger, the hurt and the blood of it all. But now here she was, insisting that she step into it like it was a back alley scrape like old times. Her face sunk, looking serious as she pulled a card out of her pocket and dropping it on the counter.

"It's this or nothing, Alex," she repeated, grabbing hold of the side of her face with a serious look, "Please. Give a shit about your own life for once."

With that, she dropped her hand and left before Alex even had a chance to process what she'd said. The door clicked shut with a sharp sound, echoing through the hot apartment and leaving the lone occupant alone with just the echo. She stood there, eyes falling on the card left behind. A business card for Nelson and Murdock. It was simple, no fancy flourishes or rich person bullshit. Just the name and the number.

She couldn't. No- there was too much. Too much she could be implicated in. The drugs, the guns. Hell, aiding and abetting a vigilante seemed pretty bad. And if that vigilante found out she was going the legal way, she didn't know quite how he'd react. If he was a man of his word, he wouldn't hurt her, but she didn't know what kind of man he really was.

Her fingers hovered shakily over the little piece of card stock. No. No, she- she couldn't just do this. Her breath rattled around in her lungs as she picked up the card, fingers tight and crinkling the pristine white material.

But as she was about to crumple the little thing in her fist, Mandy's words echoed through her head. She couldn't- she just couldn't lose her. Mandy had been the only constant in her life since she was eleven. The only person she knew for sure gave a shit about her. She remembered rough fingers bandaging her broken fingers, busted knuckles. The smell of aerosol as they ran from the cops for tagging. The memory made her lips flick up ever so slightly before falling into a deep frown.

Without giving herself time to think, she dug her phone out and called the number on the card. It rang two times before the soft soprano voice of Karen's voice rang through as a greeting.

"Nelson and Murdock, how can we help you?"

Rolling her eyes, Alex leaned her head back and sighed. Of course her voice was all cute and feminine over the phone. "Blondie?"

"Ms. Moreno?" the woman responded with a glimmer of pathetic hope in her voice.

"Alex," she corrected her irritably, running her hand over her aching head as if that would help at all, "It's Alex."

"Okay," Karen responded in a clearly placating voice, "Do you need something, Alex?"

Allowing another sigh and a small groan to pass over her lips, the dark haired woman ducked her head and nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I- uh, I had one of those- uh, changes of heart or whatever."

Apparently that wasn't clear. "Um…"

"I'm saying I'll do it," she huffed, dropping her hand back to her side, "Fuck it, right?"

The line was silent for a moment. No doubt she was flagging down one of the lawyers and pointing excitedly towards the phone. Or maybe she wasn't. Alex really didn't know the woman, but she didn't care to, either.

"Right," she said professionally, composure held, "That's great. That's really great, Alex. Should I set up an appointment with-"

"Just- give me a few days, okay?" she sighed, eyes flicking over to the window where a certain man in a mask may pop up at any moment, "I've got some loose ends to tie up before I… yeah."

She could practically hear Karen nodding in an infuriatingly understanding way. "I understand. How about next week? I'll tell Matt and Foggy you're in and to let you keep a low profile until then."

"Great," she responded, already dreading having to see any of them. Particularly Murdock with his stupid judgmental face and cold, familiar voice. "Uh- thanks, I guess."

She didn't give the blonde time to respond before ending the call and dropping the phone onto the counter. The apartment was suddenly quiet again. She wondered if the man in the mask was listening to her like he always did, somehow knowing everything about her before she'd even made sense of it herself. She didn't even know if this was the right choice. Maybe she could back out if things got too tangled up. Or maybe she'd just get strangled with it all. Feeling her chest become heavy, Alex leaned down and slammed her face into her hands, barely holding herself up anymore.

"I'm so fucked."


End file.
